CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


Books  by 
Peter  B.  Kyne 

CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

THE  THREE  GODFATHERS 

THE  GO-GETTER 

THE  PRIDE  OF  PALOMAR 

KINDRED  OF  THE  DUST 

CAPPY  RICKS 

CAPTAIN  SCRAGGS 

THE   LONG  CHANCE 

THE  VALLEY  OF   THE  GIANTS 

WEBSTER,  MAN'S  MAN 


But,  in  time,  Cappy  would  find  her  a  rich  husband. 


Cappy   Ricks   Retires 

But  that  doesn't  keep  him  from 
coming  back  stronger  than  ever 


By  Peter  B.  Kyne 

AUTHOR   OF   "THE   PRIDE   OF   PALOMAR/ 
"KINDRED  OF  THE  DUST,"  ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED  BY 
T.     D.     SKIDMOBE 


NEW   YORK 


MCMXXII 


Kit 

CAJp 


Copyright,  1922,  by 

PETER    B.    KYNE 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of 

translation  into  foreign  languages, 

including  the  Scandinavian. 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


THE    ILLUSTRATIONS 


But,   in   time,   Cappy   would   find   her   a   rich   hus 
band        Frontispiece 

FACING 
PAGE 

(Excerpt  from   the   log   of   Capt.   Matt   Peasley:) 

"I  am  alone  on  the  ship — all  the  rest  are  now  dead — "     182 


He  always  shouted  when  telephoning 286 


"Two  million  dollars!"  cried  J.  Augustus  Redell   .     350 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


CHAPTER  I 

IF  you  have  read  previous  tales  of  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  and  the  various  brisk  indi 
viduals  connected  therewith,  you  will  recall  one 
Michael  J.  Murphy,  who  first  came  to  the  attention  of 
Cappy  Ricks  at  the  time  he,  the  said  Murphy,  was  chief 
kicker  of  the  barkentine  Retriever  under  Captain  Matt 
Peasley.  Subsequently,  when  Matt  Peasley  presented  in 
his  person  indubitable  evidence  of  the  wisdom  of  the  old 
saw  that  you  cannot  keep  a  good  man  down,  Michael 
J.  became  skipper  of  the  Retriever.  This  berth  he 
continued  to  occupy  with  pleasure  and  profit  to  all 
concerned,  until  a  small  financial  tidal  wave,  which 
began  with  Matt  Peasley's  purchase,  at  a  ridiculously 
low  figure,  of  the  Oriental  Steamship  Company's  huge 
freighter,  Narcissus,  swept  the  cunning  Matthew  into 
the  presidency  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company ; 
whereupon  Matt  designed  to  take  Murphy  out  of  the 
Retriever  and  have  him  try  his  hand  in  steam  as  master 
of  the  Narcissus. 

The  same  financial  tidal  wave  had  swept  Cappy 
Ricks  out  of  the  presidency  of  the  Blue  Star  Naviga 
tion  Company — presumably  far  up  the  beach  to  a 
place  in.  the  sun,  where  he  was  to  bask  for  the  remainder 
of  his  old  age  as  president  emeritus  of  all  his  com- 

3 


4  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

panies.  However,  if  there  was  one  thing  about  Gappy 
you  could  depend  upon  absolutely  it  was  the  con 
sistency  of  his  inconsistency.  For,  having  announced 
his  retirement,  his  very  next  move  was  to  bewail  his 
inability  to  retire.  He  insisted  upon  clinging  to  the 
business  like  a  barnacle  to  a  ship,  and  was  always 
very  much  in  evidence  whenever  any  deal  of  the  slight 
est  importance  was  about  to  be  consummated.  Indeed, 
he  was  never  so  thoroughly  in  command  as  when,  his 
first  burst  of  enthusiasm  anent  the  acquisition  of  the 
Narcissus  at  fifty  per  cent,  of  her  value  having  passed, 
he  discovered  that  his  son-in-law  planned  to  order 
Mike  Murphy  oif  the  quarter-deck  of  the  Retriever 
onto  the  bridge  of  the  Narcissus,  while  an  unknown  an 
swering  to  the  name  of  Terence  Reardon  had  been 
selected  for  her  chief  engineer. 

Cappy  listened  to  Matt  Peasley's  announcement; 
then  with  a  propitiatory  "Ahem!  Hum!  Harump- 
h-h-h!"  he  hitched  himself  forward  in  his  chair  and 
gazed  at  Matt  over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles. 

"Tell  me,  Matt,"  he  demanded  presently,  "who  is 
this  man  Reardon?  I  do  not  recall  such  an  engineer 
in  our  employ — and  I  thought  I  knew  them  all." 

"He  is  not  in  our  employ,  sir.  He  has  been  chief 
engineer  of  the  Arab  for  the  past  eight  years,  and 
prior  to  that  he  was  chief  of  the  Narcissus.  It  was 
Reardon  who  told  me  what  ailed  her.  She's  a  hog  on 
coal,  and  the  Oriental  steamship  people  used  to  nag 
him  about  the  fuel  bills.  Their  port  engineer  didn't 
agree  with  Reardon  as  to  what  was  wrong  with  her, 
so  he  left.  He  assures  me  that  if  her  condensers  are 
retubed  she'll  burn  from  seven  to  ten  tons  of  coal  less 
per  day." 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  5 

"Hum!  So  you're  going  to  give  him  the  job  for 
telling  you  something  our  own  port  engineer  would 
have  told  us  after  an  examination." 

"No,  sir,  I'm  going  to  give  him  the  job  because  he 
has  earned  it.  He  gave  me  some  very  valuable  in 
formation  about  the  wretched  condition  of  her  electric- 
light  plant  and  a  crack,  cunningly  concealed,  in  the 
after  web  of  her  crank  shaft " 

"Oh,  by  thunder,"  piped  Gappy,  "that's  worth  know 
ing!  Ship  a  new  crank  shaft,  Matt,  and  save  the 
Blue  Star  a  salvage  bill  sooner  or  later." 

"All  that  inside  information  will  not  only  save  us 
money  in  the  future,"  Matt  continued,  "but  it  enabled 
me  to  drive  a  closer  bargain  when  dealing  with  Mac- 
Candless,  of  the  Oriental  Steamship  Company.  Con 
sequently  Terence  Reardon  gets  the  job.  He's  only 
making  a  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month  in  the 
Arab,  and  as  he  is  a  rattling  good  man — I've  looked 
him  up,  sir — I've  promised  him  a  hundred  and  seventy- 
five  a  month  in  the  Narcissus." 

"Oh,  you've  already  promised  him  the  job,  eh? 
Mistake,  Matt,  serious  mistake.  You  say  you  looked 
him  up,  but  I'll  bet  you  a  new  hat  there  is  one  thing 
about  him  that  you  failed  to  investigate,  and  that  is: 
What  kind  of  Irish  is  he?" 

"Why,  regular  Irish,  of  course — mighty  good  Irish, 
I  should  say.  Keen,  observing,  not  too  talkative,  a 
hard  worker,  temperate  in  his  habits  and  a  crackajack 
engineer  to  boot." 

Cappy  settled  back  wearily  in  his  chair  and  favored 
his  youthful  partner  with  a  glance  of  tolerant  amuse 
ment. 


/ 


6  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Matt,"  he  announced,  "those  are  the  qualifications 
we  look  for  in  an  engineer,  and  it's  been  my  experience 
that  the  Irish  and  the  Scotch  make  the  best  marine 
engineers  in  the  world.  But  when  you've  been  in  the 
shipping  game  as  long  as  I  have,  young  man,  you'll 
know  better  than  to  pick  two  Irishmen  as  departmental 
chiefs  in  the  same  ship !  I  did  it — once.  There  was 
a  red-headed  scoundrel  named  Dennis  O'Leary  who 
went  from  A.B.  to  master  in  the  Florence  Ricks.  That 
fellow  was  a  bulldog.  He  made  up  his  mind  he  was 
going  to  be  master  of  the  Florence  and  I  couldn't  stop 
him.  Good  man — damned  good!  And  there  was  a 
black  Irishman,  John  Rooney,  in  the  Amelia  Ricks. 
Had  ambitions  just  like  O'Leary.  He  went  from  oiler 
to  first  assistant  in  the  Amelia.  Fine  man — damned 
fine!  So  fine,  in  fact,  that  when  the  chief  of  the 
Florence  died  I  shifted  Rooney  to  her  immediately. 
And  what  was  the  result?  Why,  riot,  of  course. 
Matt,  the  Irish  will  fight  anybody  and  anything,  but 
they'll  fight  quicker,  with  less  excuse  and  greater  de 
light,  among  themselves,  than  any  other  nationality! 
The  Florence  Ricks  carried  a  million  feet  of  lumber, 
but  she  wasn't  big  enough  for  Rooney  and  O'Leary,  so 
I  fired  them  both,  not  being  desjrous  of  playing  favor 
ites.  Naturally,  each  blamed  the  other  for  the  loss 
of  his  job,  and  without  a  word  having  been  spoken 
they  went  out  on  the  dock  and  fought  the  bloodiest 
draw  I  have  ever  seen  on  the  San  Francisco  waterfront. 
After  they  had  been  patched  up  at  the  Harbor  Hos 
pital,  both  came  and  cussed  me  and  told  me  I  was  an 
ingrate,  so  I  hired  them  both  back  again,  put  them  in 
different  ships,  slipped  each  of  them  a  good,  cheerful 
Russian  Finn,  and  saved  funeral  expenses.  That's 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  7? 

what  I  got,  Matt,  for  not  asking  those  two  what  kind 
of  Irish  they  were.  Now,  then,  sonny,  once  more. 
What  kind  of  Irish  is  Terence  Reardon?" 

"Why,  I  don't  know,  I  tell  you.    He's  just  Irish." 

Cappy  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  ceiling  as  if  praying 
for  the  great  gift  of  patience. 

"Listen  to  the  boy,"  he  demanded  of  an  imaginary 
bystander.  "He  doesn't  know !  Well,  stick  your  head 
down  over  his  engine-room  grating  some  day,  sing  The 
Boyne  Wather — and  find  out!  Now,  then,  do  you 
happen  to  know  what  kind  of  Irish  Mike  Murphy  is? 
You  ought  to.  You  were  shipmates  with  him  in  the 
Retriever  long  enough." 

"Oh,  Mike's  from  Galway.  He  goes  to  mass  on 
Sunday  when  he  can." 

"Hum !  If  he's  from  Galway,  where  did  he  leave  his 
brogue?  He  runs  to  the  broad  a  like  an  Englishman." 

"That's  easily  explained.  Mike  left  his  brogue  in 
Galway.  He  came  to  this  country  when  he  was  six 
years  old  and  was  raised  in  Boston.  That's  where  he 
picked  up  his  broad  a." 

"That  doesn't  help  a  bit,  Matt.  He's  Irish  just  the 
same,  and  what  a  Yankee  like  you  don't  know  about  the 
Irish  would  fill  a  book.  You  know,  Matt,  there  are 
a  few  rare  white  men  that  can  handle  Chinamen  suc 
cessfully  ;  now  and  then  you'll  run  across  one  that  can 
handle  niggers ;  but  I  have  never  yet  met  anybody  who 
could  figure  the  mental  angles  of  the  Irish  except  an 
Irishman.  There's  something  in  an  Irishman  that 
drives  him  into  the  bandwagon.  He's  got  'to  be  the 
boss,  and  if  he  can't  be  the  boss  he'll  sit  round  and 
criticize.  But  if  I  want  a  man  to  handle  Chinamen,  or 
niggers,  or  Japs,  or  Bulgarians  I'll  advertise  for  an 


8  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Irishman  and  take  the  first  one  that  shows  up.  A 
young  man  like  you,  Matt,  shouldn't  monkey  with  these 
people.  They're  a  wonderful  race  and  very  much 
misunderstood,  and  if  you  don't  start  'em  right  on  the 
job  you'll  always  be  in  trouble.  Now,  Matt,  I've  al 
ways  done  the  hiring  and  firing  for  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company,  and  as  a  result  I've  had  blamed 
little  of  it  to  do,  considering  the  size  of  our  fleet; 
consequently  I'll  just  give  these  two  Harps  the 
Double-O.  Have  Murphy  and  Reardon  at  the  office  at 
nine  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  and  I'll  read  them  the 
riot  act  before  turning  them  to." 


CHAPTER  H 

Gappy  Ricks  was  at  his  office  at  eight-fifty  the 
following  morning.  At  eight-fifty-two  Mr.  Terence 
Reardon,  plainly  uncomfortable  in  a  ready-made 
blue-serge  Sunday  suit  purchased  on  the  Embarcadero 
for  twenty-five  dollars,  came  into  the  office.  He  was 
wearing  a  celluloid  collar,  and  a  quite  noticeable  rattle 
as  he  shook  hands  with  Gappy  Ricks  betrayed  the 
fact  that  he  also  was  wearing  celluloid  cuffs;  for,  not 
withstanding  the  fact  that  he  bathed  twice  a  day,  Mr. 
Reardon's  Hibernian  hide  contained  much  of  perspira 
tion,  coal  dust,  metal  grit  and  lubricating  oil,  and 
such  substances  can  always  be  washed  off  celluloid 
collars  and  cuffs.  To  his  credit  be  it  known  that 
Terence  Reardon  knew  his  haberdashery  was  not  au 
fait,  for  his  wife  never  failed  to  remind  him  of  it ;  but 
unfortunately  he  was  the  possessor  of  a  pair  of  grimy 
hands  that  nothing  on  earth  could  ever  make  clean, 
and  even  when  he  washed  them  in  benzine  they  always 
left  black  thumb  prints  on  a  linen  collar  during  the 
process  of  adjustment.  He  had  long  since  surrendered 
to  his  fate. 

At  eight-fifty-four  Mike  Murphy  arrived.  Murphy 
was  edging  up  into  the  forties,  but  still  he  was  young 
enough  at  heart  to  take  a  keen  interest  in  his  personal 
appearance,  and  a  tailor  who  belonged  to  Michael's 
council  of  the  Knights  of  Columbus  had  decked  him 

P 


10  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

out  in  a  suit  of  English  tweeds  of  the  latest  cut  and  in 
most  excellent  taste. 

"Good  morning,  captain,"  Gappy  Ricks  greeted  him. 
"Ahead  of  time  as  usual.  Meet  Mr.  Terence  Reardon, 
late  chief  of  the  Arab.  He  is  to  be  a  shipmate  of 
yours — chief  of  the  Narcissus,  you  know. 

"Mr.  Reardon,  shake  hands  with  Captain  Mike 
Murphy.  Captain  Murphy  has  been  in  our  employ  a 
number  of  years  as  master  of  sail.  The  Narcissus  will 
be  his  first  command  in  steam." 

"Terence  Reardon,  eh?"  echoed  Mike  Murphy  pleas 
antly.  "That  sounds  like  a  good  name.  Glad  to  meet 
you,  chief.  What  part  of  the  old  country  are  you 
from?  The  West?" 

The  wish  was  father  to  the  thought,  since  Mike  was 
from  the  West  himself. 

"I'm  from  the  Nort'— from  Belfast,"  Mr.  Reardon 
replied  in  a  deep  Kerry  brogue,  and  extended  a  grimy 
paw  upon  the  finger  of  which  Mil^e  Murphy  observed 
a  gold  ring  that  proclaimed  Mr.  Terence  Reardon — an 
Irishman,  presumably  a  Catholic — one  who  had  risen 
to  the  third  degree  in  Freemasonry. 

Cappy  Ricks  saw  that  ring  also,  and  started  visibly. 
A  Knight  Templar  himself,  Terence  Reardon  was  the 
last  person  on  earth  in  whom  he  expected  to  find  a 
brother  Mason.  He  glanced  at  Mike  Murphy  and  saw 
that  the  skipper  was  looking,  not  at  Mr.  Reardon,  but 
at  the  Masonic  emblem. 

"Sit  down,  chief,"  Cappy  hastened  to  interrupt. 
"Have  a  chair,  captain.  Mr.  Reardon,  my  son-in-law, 
Captain  Peasley  here,  tells  me  you  were  chief  of  the 
Narcissus  when  she  was  on  the  China  run  for  the 
Oriental  Steamship  Company." 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  11 

Mr.  Reardon  sat  down  heavily,  set  his  derby  hat  on 
the  floor  beside  him  and  replied  briefly :  "I  was." 

Captain  Murphy  excused  himself  and  drew  Matt 
Peasley  out  of  the  room.  "God  knows,"  he  whispered 
hoarsely,  "religion  should  never  enter  into  the  working 
of  a  ship,  and  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  get  along  with 
that  fellow ;  but  did  you  mark  the  Masonic  ring  on  the 
paw  of  the  Far-Down?  And  on  the  right  hand,  too! 
The  jackass  don't  know  enough  to  wear  it  on  his  left 
hand." 

"Why,  what's  wrong  about  being  a  Mason?"  Matt 
protested.  "Cappy's  a  Mason  and  so  am  I." 

"Nothing  wrong  about  it — with  you  and  Gappy 
Ricks.  That's  your  privilege.  You're  Protestants." 

"Well,  maybe  the  chief's  a  Protestant,  too,"  Matt 
suggested,  but  Mike  Murphy  silenced  him  with  a  sar 
donic  smile. 

"With  that  name?"  he  queried,  and  laughed  the 
brief,  mirthless  laugh  of  the  man  who  knows.  "And 
he  says  he's  from  Belfast!  Man,  I  could  cut  that 
Kerry  brogue  with  a  belaying  pin." 

"Why,  Mike,"  Matt  interrupted,  "I  never  before 
suspected  you  were  intolerant  of  a  shipmate's  private 
convictions.  I  must  say  this  attitude  of  yours  is  dis 
turbing." 

"Why,  I'm  not  a  bigot,"  Murphy  protested  virtu 
ously.  "Who  told  you  that?" 

"Why,  you're  a  Catholic,  and  you  resent  Reardon 
because  he's  a  Protestant." 

"Not  a  bit  of  it.  You're  a  Protestant,  and  don't 
I  love  you  like  a  brother?" 

Matt  thought  he  saw  the  light.  "Oh,  I  see,"  he 
replied.  "It's  because  Reardon  is  an  Irish  Protestant." 


12  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Almost — but  not  quite.  God  knows  I  hate  the 
Orangemen  for  what  they  did  to  me  and  mine,  but  at 
least  they've  been  Protestant  since  the  time  of  Henry 
VIII.  But  the  lad  inside  there  has  no  business  to  be  a 
Protestant.  The  Lord  intended  him  for  a  Catholic — 
and  he  knows  it.  He's  a  renegade.  I  don't  blame  you 
for  being  a  Protestant,  Matt.  It's  none  of  my  busi 
ness." 

Matt  Peasley  had  plumbed  the  mystery  at  last.  He 
had  been  reading  a  good  deal  in  the  daily  papers  about 
Home  Rule  for  Ireland,  the  Irish  Nationalists,  the 
Ulster  Volunteers,  the  Unionists,  and  so  on,  and  in  a 
vague  way  he  had  always  understood  that  religious 
differences  were  at  the  bottom  of  it  all.  He  realized 
now  that  it  was  something  deeper  than  that — a  relic 
of  injustice  and  oppression;  a  hostility  that  had  come 
to  Mike  Murphy  as  a  heritage  from  his  forbears — 
something  he  had  imbibed  at  his  mother's  breast  and 
was,  for  purposes  of  battle,  a  more  vital  issue  than  the 
interminable  argument  about  the  only  safe  road  to 
heaven. 

"I  see,"  Matt  murmured.  "Reardon,  being  Irish, 
has  violated  the  national  code  of  the  Irish " 

"You've  said  it,  Matt.  They're  Tories  at  heart, 
every  mother's  son  of  them." 

"What  do  you  mean— Tories  ?" 

"That  they're  for  England,  of  course." 

"Well,  I  don't  blame  them.  So  am  I.  Aren't  you, 
Mike?" 

"May  God  forgive  you,"  Mike  Murphy  answered 
piously.  "I  am  not.  I'm  for  their  enemies.  I'm  for 
anything  that's  against  England.  Ireland  is  not  a 
colony.  She's  a  nation.  Man,  man,  you  don't  under- 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  13 

stand.  Only  an  Irishman  can,  and  he  gets  it  at  his 
mother's  or  his  grandmother's  knee — the  word-of- 
mouth  history  of  his  people,  the  history  that  isn't  in 
the  books !  Do  you  think  I  can  forget  ?  Do  you  think 
I  want  to  forget?" 

"No,"  Matt  Peasley  replied  quietly;  "I  think  you'll 
have  to  forget — in  so  far  as  Terence  Reardon  is  con 
cerned.  This  is  the  land  of  the  free  and  the  home  of 
the  brave,  and  even  when  you're  outside  the  three-mile 
limit  I  want  you  to  remember,  Mike,  that  the  good  ship 
Narcissus  is  under  the  American  flag.  The  Narcissus 
needs  all  her  space  for  cargo,  Mike.  There  is  no  room 
aboard  her  for  a  feud.  Don't  ever  poke  your  nose  into 
Terence  Reardon's  engine-room  except  on  his  invitation 
or  for  the  purpose  of  locating  a  leak.  Treat  him  with 
courtesy  and  do  not  discuss  politics  or  religion  when 
you  meet  him  at  table,  which  will  be  about  the  only 
opportunity  you  two  will  have  to  discuss  anything; 
and  if  Reardon  wants  to  talk  religion  or  politics  you 
change  your  feeding  time  and  avoid  meeting  him.  I've 
taken  you  out  of  the  old  Retriever,  Mike,  where  you've 
been  earning  a  hundred  and  twenty-five  dollars  a 
month,  to  put  you  in  the  Narcissus  at  two  hundred 
and  fifty.  That  is  conclusive  evidence  that  I'm  for 
you.  But  Terence  Reardon  is  a  crackajack  chief  engi 
neer,  and  I  want  you  to  remember  that  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  needs  him  in  its  business  quite 
as  much  as  it  needs  Michael  J.  Murphy,  and  if  you 
two  get  scrapping  I'm  not  going  to  take  the  trouble 
to  investigate  and  place  the  blame.  I'll  just  call  you 
both  up  on  the  carpet  and  make  you  draw  straws  to 
see  who  quits." 


14  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Fair  enough,"  replied  the  honest  Murphy.  "If  I 
can't  be  good  I'll  be  as  good  as  I  can." 

At  that  very  instant  Gappy  Ricks  was  just  discov 
ering  what  kind  of  Irish  Mr.  Terence  Reardon  was. 

The  most  innocent  remark  brought  him  the  informa 
tion  he  sought. 

"Captain  Murphy,  whom  you  have  just  met,  is  to 
be  master  of  the  Narcissus,  chief,"  he  explained.  "He's 
a  splendid  fellow  personally  and  a  most  capable  navi 
gator,  and  like  you  he's  Irish.  I'm  sure  you'll  get  along 
famously  together." 

Oappy  tried  to  smile  away  his  apprehension,  for  a 
still  small  voice  whispered  to  him  and  questioned  the 
right  of  Terence  Reardon  to  call  him  brother. 

Mr.  Reardon's  sole  reply  to  this  optimistic  prophecy 
was  a  noncommittal  grunt,  accompanied  by  a  slight 
outthrust  and  uplift  of  the  chin,  a  pursing  of  the  lips 
and  the  ghost  of  a  sardonic  little  smile.  Only  an 
Irishman  can  get  the  right  tempo  to  that  grunt — and 
the  tempo  is  everything.  In  the  case  of  Terence  Rear 
don  it  said  distinctly:  "I  hope  you're  right,  sir,  but 
privately  I  have  my  doubts."  However,  not  satisfied 
with  pantomime,  Mr.  Reardon  went  a  trifle  farther — 
for  reasons  best  known  to  himself.  He  laved  the  corner 
of  his  mouth  with  the  tip  of  a  tobacco-stained  tongue 
and  said  presently:  "I  can't  say,  Misther  Ricks,  that 
I  quite  like  the  cut  av  that  fella's  jib." 

That  was  the  Irish  of  it.  A  representative  of  any 
other  race  on  earth  would  have  employed  the  third 
person  singular  when  referring  to  the  absent  Murphy ; 
only  an  Irishman  would  have  said  "that  fella,"  and 
only  a  certain  kind  of  Irishman  could  have  managed 
to  inject  into  such  simple  words  such  a  note  of  scorn 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  15 

supernal.  Gappy  Ricks  got  the  message — just  like 
that. 

"Then  stay  off  his  bridge,  Reardon,"  he  warned  the 
chief.  "Your  job  is  in  the  engine-room,  so  even  if  you 
and  Captain  Murphy  do  not  like  each  other,  there  will 
be  no  excuse  for  friction.  The  only  communication 
you  need  have  with  him  is  through  the  engine-room 
telegraph." 

"Then,  sor,"  Terence  Reardon  replied  respectfully, 
"I'll  take  it  kindly  av  you  to  tell  him  to  keep  out  av 
me  engine-room.  I'll  have  no  skipper  buttin'  in  on  me, 
tellin'  me  how  to  run  me  engines  an'  askin'  me  why  in 
this  an'  that  I  don't  go  aisy  on  the  coal.  Faith,  I've 
had  thim  do  it — the  wanst — an*  the  wanst  only.  Be- 
gorra,  I'd  have  brained  thim  wit*  a  monkey  wrench  if 
they  tried  it  a  second  time." 

"On  the  other  hand,"  Cappy  remarked,  "Fve  had  to 
fire  more  than  one  chief  engineer  who  couldn't  cure 
himself  of  a  habit  of  coming  up  on  the  bridge  when 
the  vessel  got  to  port — to  tell  the  skipper  how  to  berth 
his  ship  against  a  strong  flood  tide.  I  suppose  that 
while  we  have  steamships  the  skippers  will  always  won 
der  how  the  vessel  can  possibly  make  steerage  way. 
considering  the  chief  engineers,  while  the  chiefs  will 
never  cease  marvelling  that  such  fine  ships  should  be 
entrusted  to  a  lot  of  Johnny  Know-No  things.  How 
ever,  Reardon,  I  might  as  well  tell  you  that  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company  plays  no  favorites.  When 
the  chief  and  the  skipper  begin  to  interfere  with  the 
dividends,  they  look  overside  some  bright  day  and  see 
Alden  P.  Ricks  waiting  for  them  on  the  cap  of  the 
wharf.  And  when  the  ship  is  alongside,  the  said  Ricks 
comes  aboard  with  five  bones  in  his  pocket,  and  the 


16  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

said  skipper  and  the  said  chief  are  invited  into  the 
dining  saloon  to  roll  the  said  bones — one  flop  and  high 
man  out.  Yes,  sir.  Out !  Out  of  the  ship  and  out  of 
the  Blue  Star  employ — for  ever." 

"I  hear  you,  sor.  I  hearrd  you  the  first  time,'* 
Terence  Reardon  replied  complacently  and  reached  for 
his  pipe.  "All  I  ask  from  you  is  a  square  deal.  I'll 
have  it  from  the  captain  wit'out  the  askin'." 

Thus  the  Reardon  breathing  his  defiance. 

"I'm  glad  we  understand  each  other,  chief.  Just 
avoid  arguments,  political  or  religious,  and  treat  the 
skipper  with  courtesy.  Then  you'll  get  along  all  right. 
Now  with  reference  to  your  salary.  The  union  scale 
is  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars  a  month " 

"Beggin'  yer  pardon  for  the  intherruption,  sor,  but 
the  young  man  promised  me  a  hundhred  an'  siventy- 
five." 

"That  was  before  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany  took  over  the  young  man  and  his  ship  Narcissus. 
Hereafter  you'll  deal  with  the  old  man  in  such  matters. 
I'm  going  to  give  you  two  hundred  a  month,  Reardon, 
and  you  are  to  keep  the  Narcissus  out  of  the  shop. 
Hear  me,  chief — out  of  the  shop." 

"No  man  can  ordher  me  to  do  me  djooty,"  said 
Terence  Reardon  simply.  "Tell  the  fine  gintleman  on 
the  bridge  to  keep  her  out  av  the  kelp,  an'  faith,  she'll 
shtay  out  av  the  shop.  Thank  you  kindly,  sor.  When 
do  I  go  to  wurrk?" 

"Your  pay  started  this  morning.  The  Narcissus  goes 
on  Christy's  ways  in  Oakland  Harbor  at  the  tip  of 
the  flood  this  afternoon.  Get  on  the  ship  and  stay  on 
her.  It's  a  day-and-night  rush  job  to  get  her  in  com 
mission,  and  you'll  be  paid  time  and  a  half  while  she's 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  17 

repairing.  Good-day  and  good  luck  to  you,  chief. 
Come  in  and  see  me  whenever  you  get  to  port."  And 
Cappy  Ricks,  most  democratic  of  men,  extended  his 
hand  to  his  newest  employee.  Terence  Reardon  took 
it  in  his  huge  paw  that  would  never  be  clean  any  more, 
and  held  it  for  a  moment,  the  while  he  looked  fearlessly 
into  Cappy's  eyes. 

"  'Tis  a  proud  man  I  am  to  wurrk  for  you,  sor,"  he 
said  simply.  "Tip-top  serrvice  for  tip-top  pay,  an* 
by  the  Great  Gun  av  Athlone,  you'll  get  it  from  me, 
sor.  If  ever  the  ship  is  lost  'twill  be  no  fault  of  mine." 

Mr.  Reardon's  manner,  as  he  thus  calmly  exculpated 
himself  from  the  penalty  for  future  disaster,  indicated 
quite  clearly  that  Cappy  Ricks,  in  such  a  contingency, 
might  look  to  the  man  higher  up — on  the  bridge,  for 
instance. 

When  Terence  Reardon  had  departed  Cappy  Ricks 
called  Mike  Murphy  into  the  room. 

"Now,  captain,"  he  began,  "there  are  a  few  things 
I  want  to  tell  you.  This  man  Reardon  is  a  fine,  loyal 
fellow,  but  he's  touchy " 

"I  know  all  about  him,"  Murphy  interrupted  with 
a  slight  emphasis  on  the  pronoun.  Unlike  Mr.  Rear 
don  he  employed  the  third  person  singular  and  did  not 
say  "that  fella,"  for  he  had  been  raised  in  the  United 
States  of  America. 

"I  have  already  given  the  captain  his  instructions," 
Matt  Peasley  announced.  "He  understands  the  situa 
tion  perfectly  and  will  conduct  himself  accordingly." 


CHAPTER  III 

A  small  army  of  men  swarmed  over,  under  and 
through  the  huge  Narcissus  for  the  next  three  weeks, 
and  the  hearts  of  Gappy  Ricks  and  Matt  Peasley 
were  like  to  burst  with  pride  as  they  stood  on 
the  bridge  with  Captain  Mike  Murphy,  while  he  ran 
the  vessel  over  the  measured  course  to  test  her  speed, 
and  swung  her  in  the  bay  while  adjusting  her  compass. 
She  was  as  beautiful  as  money  and  paint  could  make 
her,  and  when  Terence  Reardon,  in  calm  disregard  of 
orders,  came  up  on  the  bridge  to  announce  his  un 
bounded  faith  in  the  rejuvenated  condensers  and  to  pre 
dict  a  modest  coal  bill  for  the  future,  Mike  Murphy 
so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  order  the  steward  to  bring 
up  a  bottle  of  something  and  begged  Mr.  Reardon  to 
join  him  in  three  fingers  of  nepenthe  to  celebrate  the 
occasion. 

"T'ank  you,  sor,  but  I  never  dhrink — on  djooty," 
Mr.  Reardon  retorted  with  chill  politeness,  "nor,"  he 
added,  "wit*  me  immejiate  superiors." 

A  superficial  analysis  of  this  remark  will  convince 
the  most  sceptical  that  Mr.  Reardon,  with  true  Hi 
bernian  adroitness,  had  managed  to  convey  an  insult 
without  seeming  to  convey  it. 

"Isn't  that  a  pity!"  the  skipper  replied.  "We'll 
excuse  you  to  attend  to  your  duty,  Mr.  Reardon;" 
and  he  bowed  the  chief  toward  the  companion  leading 

18 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  19 

to  the  boat  deck.  The  latter  departed,  furious,  with 
an  uncomfortable  feeling  of  having  been  out-generaled ; 
and  once  a  good  Irishman  and  true  has  undergone  that 
humiliation  it  is  a  safe  bet  that  the  Dove  of  Peace  has 
lost  her  tail  feathers. 

"That's  an  unmannerly  chief  engineer,"  Mike 
Murphy  announced  blandly,  "but  for  all  that  he's  not 
without  his  good  points.  He'll  not  waste  money  in  his 
department." 

"A  virtue  which  I  trust  you  will  imitate  in  yours, 
captain,"  Gappy  Ricks  snapped  dryly.  "Is  Reardon 
working  short-handed?" 

"Only  while  we're  loading,  when  he'll  need  just 
enough  men  to  keep  steam  up  in  the  winches.  When 
we  go  to  sea,  however,  he'll  have  a  full  crew,  but  the 
fun  of  it  is  they'll  be  non-union  men  with  the  exception 
of  the  engineers  and  officers.  The  engineers  will  all 
belong  to  the  Marine  Engineers'  Association  and  the 
mates  to  Harbor  15,  Masters'  and  Pilots'  Associa 
tion." 

"He'll  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  Matt  Peasley  de 
clared  quietly.  "We  have  union  crews  in  all  our  other 
steamers,  and  the  unions  will  declare  a  strike  on  us 
if  we  put  non-union  men  in  the  Narcissus" 

"Of  course— if  they  find  out.  But  they'll  not.  Be 
sides,  we're  going  to  the  Atlantic  Coast,  so  why  should 
we  bring  a  high-priced  crew  into  a  low-priced  market, 
Mr.  Ricks  ?  Leave  it  to  me,  sir.  I'll  load  the  ship  with 
longshoremen  entirely,  and  we'll  sail  with  the  crew  of 
that  German  liner  that  came  a  few  days  ago  to  intern 
in  Richardson's  Bay  until  the  European  war  is  over." 

"I'm  not  partial  to  the  German  cause,"  Matt  Peasley 


20  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

announced.     "So  I'll  just  veto  that  plan  right  now, 
Mike." 

"Matt,  we're  neutral,"  Gappy  declared. 

"And  it  pays  to  ship  those  Germans,  Matt,"  Murphy 
continued.  "I  confess  I'm  for  the  Germans,  although 
not  to  such  an  extent  that  I'd  go  round  offering  them 
jobs  just  because  they  are  Germans.  But  the  minute 
I  heard  about  that  interned  boat  I  said  to  myself: 
'Now,  here's  a  chance  to  save  the  Narcissus  some 
money.  The  crew  of  that  liner  will  all  be  discharged 
now  that  she  is  interned.  However,  the  local  unions 
will  not  admit  them  to  membership  and  they  cannot 
work  on  any  Pacific  Coast  boat  unless  they  hold  union 
cards.  Consequently  they  must  seek  other  occupa 
tions,  and  as  the  chances  are  these  fellows  do  not  speak 
English,  they're  up  against  it.  Also,  they  are  for 
eigners  who  have  paid  no  head  tax  when  coming  into 
the  country,  because  they  are  seamen.  They  have  the 
right  to  land  and  stay  ashore  three  months,  if  they 
state  that  it  is  their  intention  to  ship  out  again  within 
that  period ;  but  if  they  do  not  so  ship,  then  the  immi 
gration  authorities  may  deport  them  as  paupers  or  for 
failure  to  pay  the  head  tax;  and  in  that  event  they 
will  all  be  returned  to  the  vessel  that  brought  them 
here,  and  the  owners  of  the  vessel  will  be  forced  to 
intern  them  and  care  for  them.'  Under  the  circum 
stances,  therefore,  I  concluded  they  would  jump  at  a 
job  in  an  American  vessel,  for  the  reason  that  under 
the  American  flag  they  would  be  reasonably  safe;  and 
even  if  the  Narcissus  should  be  searched  by  a  British 
cruiser,  she  would  not  dare  take  these  Germans  off  her. 
Remember,  we  had  a  war  with  England  once  for  board 
ing  our  ships  and  removing  seamen !" 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  21 

"By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,"  said  Cappy 
Ricks,  "there's  something  in  that,  Matt." 

"There's  a  splendid  saving  in  the  pay  roll,  let  me 
tell  you,"  the  proud  Murphy  continued.  "I  took  the 
matter  up  at  once  with  the  German  skipper  and  he 
fixed  it  for  me,  and  mighty  glad  he  was  to  get  his 
countrymen  off  his  hands.  We  get  all  that  liner's  coal 
passers,  oilers,  firemen,  six  deckhands  and  four  quar 
termasters  at  the  scale  of  wages  prevailing  in  Ham 
burg.  I  know  what  it  is  in  marks,  but  I  haven't  figured 
it  out  in  dollars  and  cents,  although  whatever  it  is  it's 
a  scandal !  It  almost  cuts  our  pay  roll  in  half." 

"Do  you  speak  German,  captain?"  Cappy  queried 
excitedly. 

"I  do  not,  sir — more's  the  pity.  But  the  four  quar 
termasters  speak  fair  English,  and  I  have  engaged  two 
good  German-American  mates  who  speak  German. 
Reardon  has  shipped  German-American  engineers  and 
some  of  his  coal  passers  and  firemen  speak  fair  English. 
I've  got  two  Native  Son  Chinamen  in  the  galley  and  a 
Cockney  steward.  We'll  get  along." 

"And  a  rattling  fine  idea,  too,"  Cappy  Ricks  de 
clared  warmly.  "Mike,  my  boy,  you're  a  wonder. 
That's  the  spirit.  Always  keep  down  the  overhead, 
Matt.  That's  what  eats  up  the  dividends." 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  agree  to  it  if  the  Narcissus  wasn't 
going  to  be  engaged  in  neutral  trade,  or  if  she  was 
carrying  munitions  of  war  to  the  Allies,"  Matt  de 
clared.  "I'd  be  afraid  some  of  Mike's  Germans  might 
blow  up  the  ship." 

"Believe  me,"  quoth  Michael  J.  Murphy,  "if  she  was 
engaged  in  freighting  munitions  to  England,  it'd  be 


2%  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

a  smart  German  that  would  get  a  chance  to  blow  her 
up.    I  think  I'd  scuttle  her  myself  first." 

"Well,  Mike,  if  your  courage  failed  you,"  Gappy 
Ricks  replied  laughingly,  "I  think  we  could  safely 
leave  the  job  to  Terence  Reardon." 


CHAPTER  IV 

On  that  first  voyage  the  Narcissus  carried  general 
cargo  to  northern  ports  on,  the  West  Coast.  Then 
she  dropped  down  to  a  nitrate  port  and  loaded 
nitrate  for  New  York,  and  about  the  time  she  passed 
through  the  Panama  Canal  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company  wired  its  New  York  agent  to  provide  some 
neutral  business  for  her  next  voyage.  Freights  were 
soaring  by  this  time,  due  to  the  scarcity  of  the  foreign 
bottoms  which  formerly  had  carried  Uncle  Sam's  goods 
to  market,  and  Cappy  Ricks  and  Matt  Peasley  knew 
the  rates  would  increase  from  day  to  day,  and  that  in 
consequence  their  New  York  agents  would  experience 
not  the  slightest  difficulty  in  placing  her — hence  they 
delayed  as  long  as  they  could  placing  her  on  the  mar 
ket. 

On  the  other  hand,  the  New  York  agents,  realizing 
that  higher  freight  rates  meant  a  correspondingly 
higher  commission  for  them  on  the  charter,  held  off 
until  the  Narcissus  had  almost  finished  discharging  at 
Hoboken  before  they  closed  with  a  fine  old  New  York 
importing  and  exporting  house  for  a  cargo  of  soft 
coal  from  Norfolk,  Virginia,  to  Manila,  or  Batavia. 
The  charterers  were  undecided  which  of  these  two  cities 
would  be  the  port  of  discharge,  and  stipulated  that 
the  vessel  was  to  call  at  Pernambuco,  Brazil,  for  orders. 
The  New  York  agents  marvelled  at  this  for — to  them 

23 


24  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

— very  obvious  reasons ;  but  inasmuch  as  the  charterers 
had  offered  a  whopping  freight  rate  and  declined  to 
do  business  on  any  other  basis,  and  since  further  the 
agent  concluded  it  was  no  part  of  his  office  to  question 
the  motives  of  a  house  that  never  before  had  been 
subjected  to  suspicion,  he  concluded  to  protect  himself 
by  leaving  the  decision  to  the  owners  of  the  Narcissus. 
Accordingly  he  wired  them  as  follows : 

"Blue  Star  Navigation  Company, 

"258  California  St.,  San  Francisco,  Cal. 
"Have  offer  Narcissus,  coal  Norfolk  Batavia  or  Manila, 
charterers  undecided,  Pernambuco  for  orders,  ten  dollars 
per  ton.     Shall  we  close?    Answer. 

"SEABORN  &  COMPANY." 

Gappy  Ricks  was  having  his  afternoon  siesta  when 
this  telegram  arrived.  Mr.  Skinner,  the  general  man 
ager  of  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company,  which 
occupied  the  same  suite  of  offices  as  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  and  was  so  intertwined  with  the 
latter  company  as  to  be  an  integral  part  of  it,  received 
the  telegram  and  read  it  to  Cappy,  who  unfortunately 
was  not  so  wide  awake  at  the  moment  as  usual.  Fur 
thermore,  Mr.  Skinner  had  just  emerged  from  a  terrible 
battle  with  a  customer  who  had  tried  to  crawl  out  of  an 
order  for  a  cargo  of  redwood  lumber  just  because  the 
market  had  slumped  fifty  cents ;  in  consequence  of 
which  the  estimable  Skinner's  mind  was  on  other  tilings 
as  he  read  the  telegram  to  Cappy. 

"Is  it  all  right,  Mr.  Ricks?  Shall  I  wire  them  to 
close  ?"  he-  queried,  wondering  all  the  while  if  he  hadn't 
made  a  mistake  in  insisting  upon  delivery  of  that  cargo 
after  all.  Certainly  it  did  call  for  a  fearful  lot  of  No. 


t 
CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  25 

.2  boards,  1"  x  8"  and  up,  and  too  great  a  percentage 
of  4"  x  6"-20'  No.  1  clear.  And  there  were  mighty 
:few  clear  twenty-foot  logs  coming  into  the  boom  these 
days. 

"Well,  will  a  cat  eat  liver?"  declared  Gappy  Ricks. 
"I  should  say  we  do  accept.  Why,  man,  she'll  make 
forty  thousand  dollars  on  the  voyage,  and  whether 
she  goes  to  Batavia  or  Manila,  we're  certain  to  get  a 
cargo  back." 

"All  right,  I'll  wire  acceptance,"  Skinner  replied, 
and  paused  long  enough  to  make  a  notation  on  the 
message:  "O.K. — Ricks."  Mr.  Skinner  meant  nothing 
in  particular  by  that.  He  was  a  model  of  efficiency, 
and  that  was  his  little  way  of  placing  the  responsibility 
for  the  decision  in  the  event  that  the  wisdom  of  said 
decision  should,  at  some  future  time,  be  questioned. 
Mr.  Skinner  never  took  unnecessary  chances.  He 
always  played  a  safe  game. 

It  is  necessary  to  state  here  also  that  Matt  Peasley 
was  not  in  the  office  when  that  telegram  arrived  from 
Seaborn  &  Company.  If  he  had  been  this  story 
would  never  have  been  written.  He  was  down  at 
Hunter's  Point  drydock,  superintending  the  repairs  to 
the  steam  schooner  Amelia  Ricks,  which  recently  on  a 
voyage  to  Seattle  had  essayed  the  overland  route  via 
Duxbury  Reef.  When  Matt  reached  home  that  night 
he  found  his  ingenious  father-in-law  fairly  purring  with 
contentment. 

"Well,  Matt,  old  horse,"  Cappy  piped,  "I've  char 
tered  the  Narcissus.  Norfolk  to  Batavia  or  Manila 
with  coal.  Got  a  glorious  price — ten  dollars  a  ton. 
That's  what  we  get  for  holding  off  until  the  last  min 
ute." 


26  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"That's  encouraging,"  Matt  answered  pleasantly, 
and  asked  no  further  questions.  He  was  obsessed  with 
the  engines  of  the  Amelia  Ricks.  It  was  going  to  cost 
a  lot  of  money  to  put  them  in  condition  again,  and 
he  remarked  as  much  to  Gappy.  Thus  it  happened 
that  they  entered  into  a  discussion  of  other  matters, 
and  the  good  ship  Narcissus,  having  finished  discharg 
ing  her  cargo  of  nitrate,  dropped  down  to  Norfolk, 
where  Captain  Michael  J.  Murphy  proceeded  to  let  a 
stream  of  coal  into  her  at  a  rate  that  promised  to  load 
her  fully  in  less  than  four  days. 

It  is  worthy  of  remark,  at  this  juncture,  that  Mike 
Murphy  and  Terence  Reardon  had,  by  this  time,  cast 
aside  all  appearance  of  even  shirt-sleeve  diplomacy. 
Diplomatic  relations  had,  in  fact,  been  completely 
severed.  Crossing  the  Gulf  Stream,  Murphy  had  called 
the  engine-room  on  the  speaking-tube  and  politely 
queried  if  Mr.  Reardon  didn't  think  he  could  get  a  few 
more  revolutions  out  of  her.  To  this  Mr.  Reardon 
had  replied  passionately  that  if  such  a  thing  were 
possible  he  would  have  done  it  long  ago  without  wait 
ing  to  be  told.  He  desired  to  inform  Captain  Murphy 
that  he  knew  his  business ;  whereupon  Murphy  had  re 
plied  that  he  never  would  have  guessed  Mr.  Reardon 
was  that  intelligent,  judging  by  the  face  of  him.  In 

disgust  Mr.  Reardon  had  replied:  "Aw,  go  to " 

and  then  tried  to  close  the  speaking-tube  before  the 
captain  would  have  the  opportunity  to  retort.  How 
ever,  Michael  J.  knew  his  own  mind,  and,  like  all  the 
Irish,  was  a  marvel  at  repartee.  Quick  as  was  Terence 
Reardon,  therefore,  Michael  J.  Murphy  was  quicker. 
Perhaps  all  of  his  message  had  not  been  delivered  be- 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  27 

fore  Reardon  closed  the  tube,  but  the  chief  got  enough 
of  it  for  all  practical  purposes. 

He  caught  one  word — "Renegade";  a  word  so  ter 
rible  that  it  left  the  chief  engineer  speechless  with 
fury,  and  before  he  could  call  the  skipper  a  baboon, 
the  golden  opportunity  was  gone.  He  closed  the  tube 
with  a  sigh. 


CHAPTER  V 

While  the  Narcissus  was  loading,  the  Fates  were 
keeping  in  reserve  for  Cappy  Ricks,  Matt  Peasley  and 
Mr.  Skinner  a  blow  that  was  to  stun  them  when  it  fell. 
About  the  time  the  Narcissus,  fully  loaded,  was  snoring 
out  to  sea  past  Old  Point  Comfort,  Matt  Peasley  came 
across  Seaborn  &  Company's  telegram  in  the  unan 
swered-correspondence  tray  on  his  desk.  Five  times  he 
read  it;  and  then,  in  the  language  of  the  poet,  hell 
began  to  pop! 

Cappy  Ricks  came  out  of  a  gentle  doze  to  find  his 
big  son-in-law  waving  the  telegram  under  his  nose. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?"  Matt  Peasley  bawled,  for 
all  the  world  as  if  Cappy  was  a  very  stupid  mate  and 
all  the  canvas  had  just  been  blown  out  of  the  bolt- 
ropes. 

"Why  didn't  you  ask  me,  you  big  stiff?"  shrilled 
Cappy.  He  didn't  know  what  was  coming,  but  instinct 
told  him  it  was  awful,  so  he  resolved  instantly  to  meet 
it  with  a  brave  front.  "Don't  you  yell  at  me,  young 
feller.  Now  then,  what  do  you  want  to  find  out?" 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  the  Narcissus  was  to  drop 
in  at  Pernambuco  for  orders?"  roared  Matt  wrath- 
fully. 

Cappy  pursed  his  lips  and  calmly  rang  for  Mr. 
Skinner.  He  eyed  the  general  manager  over  the  rims 
of  his  spectacles  for  fully  thirty  seconds.  Then: 

"Skinner,  what  the  devil's  wrong  with  you  of  late? 

28 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  29 

It's  getting  so  I  can't  trust  you  to  do  anything  any 
more.  Tut,  tut!  Not  a  peep  out  of  you,  sir.  Now 
then,  answer  me :  Why  didn't  you  tell  me,  Skinner,  that 
the  Narcissus  was  to  call  in  at  Pernambuco  for  or 
ders?" 

"I  read  you  the  telegram,  sir,"  Mr.  Skinner  replied 
coldly,  and  pointed  to  the  notation :  "O.K. — Ricks,"  the 
badge  of  his  infernal  efficiency.  "I  read  that  telegram 
to  you,  sir,"  he  repeated,  "and  asked  you  if  I  should 
close.  You  said  to  close.  I  closed.  That's  all  I  know 
about  it.  You  and  Matt  are  in  charge  of  the  shipping 
and  I  decline  to  be  dragged  into  any  disputes  originat 
ing  in  your  department.  All  I  have  to  say  is  that  if 
you  two  can't  run  the  shipping  end  and  run  it  right, 
just  turn  it  over  to  me  and  I'll  run  it — right !" 

Completely  vindicated,  Mr.  Skinner  struck  a  dis 
tinctly  defiant  attitude  and  awaited  the  next  move  on 
the  part  of  Cappy.  The  latter,  thoroughly  crushed — 
for  he  knew  the  devilish  Skinner  never  made  any  mis 
takes — looked  up  at  his  son-in-law. 

"Well,"  he  demanded,  "what's  your  grouch  against 
Pernambuco?" 

"Forgive  me  for  bawling  you  out  that  way,"  Matt 
replied,  "but  I  guess  you'd  bawl,  too,  if  somebody  who 
should  have  known  better  had  placed  a  fine  ship  in 
jeopardy  for  you.  It  just  breaks  me  all  up  to  think 
you  may  have  lost  my  steamer  Narcissus — the  first 
steamer  I  ever  owned  too — and  to  be  lost  on  her  sec 
ond  voyage  under  the  Blue  Star  flag " 

"Our  Narcissus,  if  you  please,"  Cappy  shrilled. 
"You  gibbering  jackdaw!  Out  with  it!  Where  do 
you  get  that  stuff — lose  your  steamer  on  her  second 
voyage!  Why,  she's  snug  in  Norfolk  this  minute." 


30  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"If  she  only  is,"  Matt  almost  wailed,  "she'll  never 
be  permitted  to  clear  with  that  German  crew  aboard. 
Pernambuco  for  orders !  Suffering  sailor !  And  you, 
of  all  men,  to  put  over  a  charter  like  that !  Pernam 
buco  !  Pernambuco !  Pernambuco — for — orders !  Do 
you  get  it?" 

"No,  I  don't.  It's  over  my  head  and  into  the 
bleachers." 

"I  must  say,  my  dear  Matt,"  Mr.  Skinner  struck  in 
blandty,  "that  I  also  fail  to  apprehend." 

"Didn't  you  two  ever  go  to  school?"  Matt  raved. 
"Didn't  you  ever  study  geography?  Why  under  the 
canopy  should  we  waste  our  time  and  burn  up  our 
good  coal  steaming  to  Pernambuco,  Brazil,  South 
America,  for  orders?  Let  me  put  it  to  you  two  in 
words  of  one  syllable:  The  Narcissus  is  chartered  to 
carry  a  cargo  of  coal  from  Norfolk,  Virginia,  to 
Batavia  or  Manila.  At  the  time  of  charter — and  sail 
ing — the  charterers  are  undecided  which  port  she  is  to 
discharge  at,  so  they  ask  us  to  step  over  to  Pernam 
buco  and  find  out.  Now,  whether  the  vessel  discharges 
at  Batavia  or  Manila,  her  course  in  the  Atlantic 
Ocean  while  en  route  to  either  port  is  identical!  She 
passes  round  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  which  is  at  the 
extreme  south  end  of  Africa.  If  her  course,  on  the 
contrary,  was  round  Cape  Horn  or  through  the  Straits 
of  Magellan  there  might  be  some  sense  in  sending  her 
over  to  the  east  coast  of  South  America  for  orders. 
But  whether  she  is  ordered  to  Manila  or  Batavia,  the 
fact  remains  that  she  must  put  in  to  Durban,  South 
Africa,  for  fuel  to  continue  her  voyage;  so  why  in 
the  name  of  the  Flying  Dutchman  couldn't  the  char- 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  31 

terers  cable  the  orders  to  Mike  Murphy  at  Durban? 
The  Narcissus  is  worth  a  thousand  dollars  a  day,  so 
you  waste  a  few  thousand  dollars  worth  of  her  time,  at 
the  very  least,  sending  her  to  Pernambuco  when  a  ten- 
dollar  cablegram  to  Durban  would  have  done  the  busi 
ness!  I  suppose  all  you  two  brilliant  shipping  men 
could  see  was  a  ten-dollar-a-ton  freight  rate.  Eh? 
You — landlubbers  !  A-a-g-r-r-h !  I  was  never  so  angry 
since  the  day  I  was  born." 

While  Matt  ranted  on,  Mr.  Skinner's  classic  features 
had  been  slowly  taking  on  the  general  color  tones  of  a 
ripe  old  Edam  cheese,  while  at  the  conclusion  of  Matt's 
oration  Gappy  Ricks'  eyes  were  sticking  out  like  twin 
semaphores.  He  clasped  his  hands. 

"By  the  Twelve  Ragged  Apostles !"  he  murmured 
in  an  awed  voice.  "There's  a  nigger  in  the  woodpile." 

"I  very  greatly  fear,"  Mr.  Skinner  chattered,  "that 
you  are  mistaken,  Mr.  Ricks.  Something  tells  me  it's 
a  German!" 

"Well,  well,  well !"  Matt  Peasley  sneered.  "Skinner, 
take  the  head  of  the  class.  Really,  I  believe  I  begin 
to  pick  up  signs  of  human  intelligence  in  this  sea  of 
maritime  ignorance." 

"Oh,  Matt,  quit  your  jawing  and  break  the  news  to 
me  quickly,"  Cappy  pleaded.  • 

"Haven't  you  been  reading  the  papers,  sir?  Aus 
tralian  and  Japanese  warships  have  been  hunting  for 
the  German  Pacific  fleet  for  the  past  few  weeks,  and 
the  Germans  have  been  on  the  dodge.  Therefore, 
they've  been  burning  coal.  They  are  only  allowed  to 
remain  in  a  neutral  port  twenty-four  hours,  and  can 
only  take  on  sufficient  coal  and  stores  to  enable  them 
to  reach  the  nearest  German  port.  Consequently, 


32  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

since  they  have  been  afraid  to  enter  a  neutral  port, 
for  fear  of  giving  away  their  position,  it  follows  that 
they've  had  to  stay  at  sea — and  naturally  they  have 
run  short  of  coal.  A  few  steamers  have  cleared  from 
San  Francisco  with  coal,  ostensibly  for  discharge 
at  Chilean  or  Mexican  ports,  but  in  reality  for  delivery 
to  the  German  fleet  at  sea,  but  even  with  these  few 
deliveries,  there  is  a  coal  famine.  And  now  that  the 
Pacific  is  getting  too  hot  for  it,  the  general  impression 
is  that  the  German  fleet  will  try  to  get  through  the 
Straits  of  Magellan,  for,  once  in  the  Atlantic,  coal 
will  be  easier  to  get.  More  ships,  you  know ;  more  ship 
owners  willing  to  take  a  chance  for  wartime  profits — 
and  they  say  Brazil  is  rather  friendly  to  the  German 
cause.  We  will  assume,  therefore,  that  the  German 
secret  agents  in  this  country  realize  it  is  inevitable 
that  Von  Spee's  fleet  must  be  forced  into  the  Atlantic ; 
hence,  in  anticipation  of  that  extremity,  they  are  ar 
ranging  for  the  delivery  of  coal  to  those  harassed 
cruisers.  The  agent  in  Pernambuco  is  probably  in 
constant  communication  with  the  fleet  by  wireless ;  the 
fleet  will  probably  come  ranging  up  the  coast  of  South 
America,  destroying  British  commerce,  or  some  of  the 
ships  may  cross  over  to  the  Indian  Ocean  and  join  the 
Emden,  raiding  in  those  waters.  So  the  German  secret 
agents  charter  our  huge  Narcissus,  load  her  with  ten 
thousand  tons  of  coal " 

Matt  Peasley  paused  and  bent  a  beetling  glance,  first 
at  Cappy  Ricks  and  then  at  Skinner. 

"Was  she  to  carry  soft  coal  or  anthracite?"  he 
demanded. 

"I  don't  know,"  Mr.  Skinner  quavered. 

"Search  me !"  Cappy  Ricks  piped  up  sourly. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  33 

"I  thought  so.  For  the  sake  of  argument  we'll  as 
sume  it's  soft  coal,  because  anthracite  has  not  as  yet 
become  popular  as  steamship  fuel.  Well,  we  will  as 
sume  our  vessel  gets  to  Pernambuco.  If,  in  the  mean 
time,  the  German  admiral  wirelesses  his  Pernambuco 
agent,  'Send  a  jag  of  coal  into  the  Indian  Ocean/  to  the 
Indian  Ocean  goes  the  Narcissus,  and  presently  she 
finds  a  German  warship  or  two  or  three  ranging  along 
in  her  course.  They  pick  her  up,  help  themselves  to 
her  coal,  give  Mike  Murphy  a  certificate  of  confisca 
tion  for  her  cargo,  to  be  handed  to  the  owners,  who 
in  this  case  will  be  good,  loyal  sons  of  the  Fatherland 
and  offer  no  objection " 

"I  see,"  Cappy  Ricks  interrupted.  "And  if,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  German  admiral  says,  'Send  a  jag  of 
coal  to  meet  us  in  a  certain  latitude  and  longitude  off 
the  River  Plate,'  and  Mike  Murphy  objects,  that  Ger 
man  crew  on  our  Narcissus  will  just  naturally  lock 
Mike  Murphy  up  in  his  cabin  and  take  the  vessel  away 
from  him !  When  they're  through  with  her  they'll  give 
her  back " 

"I'm  not  so  certain  they'll  have  to  lock  him  up  in 
his  cabin  in  order  to  get  the  ship,"  Mr.  Skinner  struck 
in,  a  note  of  alarm  in  his  voice.  "Mike  Murphy  is  so 
pro-German " 

"Ow!  Wow!  That  hurts,"  Cappy  wailed.  "So  he 
is !  I  never  thought  of  that.  And  now  that  you  speak 
of  it,  I  recall  it  was  his  idea,  getting  that  crew  of 
Germans  aboard !  He  said  it  would  cut  down  expenses. 
Holy  mackerel,  Matt ;  do  you  think  it  was  a  f rameup  ?" 

"Certainly  I  do,  but — Mike  Murphy  wasn't  in  on  it. 
You  can  bank  on  that.  No  piratical  foreigner  will 
ever  climb  up  on  Mike  Murphy's  deck  except  over  Mike 


34  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Murphy's  dead  body.  According  to  the  president 
emeritus  there  is  more  than  one  kind  of  Irish,  but  I'll 
guarantee  Mike  Murphy  isn't  the  double-crossing 
kind." 

A  boy  entered  with  a  telegram.  It  was  a  day  letter 
filed  by  Mike  Murphy  in  Norfolk  that  morning,  and 
Matt  Peasley  read  it  aloud: 

"Sailing  at  noon.  Regret  your  failure  take  me  into  your 
confidence  when  deciding  withdraw  vessel  from  neutral 
trade.  If  orders  send  me  to  either  of  ports  named  in 
charter  party  and  I  am  overhauled  en  route,  that  is  your 
funeral.  If  orders  conflict  with  charter  party,  as  I  suspect 
they  may,  that  may  be  my  funeral.  Regretfully  I  shall 
resign  at  Pernambuco.  You  know  your  own  business,  and 
I  cannot  believe  you  would  go  it  blind;  if  you  change  your 
mind  before  arrival  Pernambuco,  cable  care  American  Con 
sul  and  will  do  my  best  for  you. 

"M.  J.  M." 

Cappy  Ricks  sprang  into  the  air  and  tried  to  crack 
his  aged  ankles  together. 

"Saved!"  he  croaked.  "By  the  Holy  Pink-toed 
Prophet!  Saved!  Bully  for  Mike  Murphy!  Say, 
when  that  fellow  gets  back,  if  I  don't  do  something 
handsome  for  him " 

Matt  Peasley's  scowls  had  been  replaced  by  smiles. 

"God  bless  his  old  Mickedonian  heart!"  he  said 
fervently.  "He  thinks  the  coal  is  for  that  British  fleet 
reported  to  be  en  route  across  the  Atlantic  to  give 
battle  to  the  German  Pacific  fleet;  or  for  Admiral 
Craddock's  Pacific  fleet  in  case  the  Germans  chase  it 
back  into  the  Atlantic.  He  knows  that  we  know  he  is 
pro-German  and  for  anything  that's  against  England 
— and  if  he  makes  up  his  mind  the  coal  is  for  the 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  35 

British  fleet  he'll  resign  before  delivering  it !  By  Judas, 
this  would  be  funny  if  it  wasn't  so  blamed  serious."  v 

"To  be  forewarned  is  to  be  forearmed,"  Mr.  Skinner 
quoted  sagely.  "It  is  most  fortunate  for  us  that 
Murphy's  suspicions  do  us  a  grave  injustice.  We 
know  now  that  he  will  call  on  the  American  consul  at 
Pernambuco  and  ask  for  a  cablegram." 

"Yes,  and  by  thunder !  we'll  send  it,"  Cappy  declared 
joyously.  "Cable  him,  Skinner,  to  fire  that  German 
crew  so  fast  one  might  play  checkers  on  their  coat 
tails  as  they  go  overside." 

"I  wish  to  heaven  I  could  wireless  him  to  put  back 
to  New  York  and  ship  a  new  crew,"  Matt  Peasley 
mourned.  "There's  just  a  possibility  that  German 
crew  of  his  may  take  over  the  ship  on  the  high  seas 
and  not  put  into  Pernambuco  at  all!" 

"We  can  only  wait  and  pray,"  said  Mr.  Skinner 
piously. 

Cappy  Ricks  slid  out  to  the  edge  of  his  chair  and, 
pop-eyed  with  horror,  gazed  at  his  son-in-law  over  the 
rims  of  his  spectacles. 

"Matt,"  he  declared,  "you're  as  cheerful  as  a 
funeral.  Here  we  have  this  thing  all  settled,  and  you 
have  to  go  to  work  and  rip  the  silver  lining  out  of  our 
cloud  of  contentment.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  by  golly, 
I  think  there's  something  in  that  theory  of  yours  after 
all." 

"We  should  always  be  prepared  to  meet  the  worst, 
Mr.  Ricks,"  Mr.  Skinner  admonished  the  president 
emeritus.  "While  piracy  as  a  practice  practically 
perished  prior  to  the " 

"Skinner !  In  the  fiend's  name,  spare  us  this  allitera 
tion  and  humbug,"  Cappy  fairly  shrieked.  "You're 


36  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

driving  me  crazy.  If  it  isn't  platitude,  it's  your  dog 
gone  habit  of  initialing  things !"  He  placed  his  old 
elbows  on  his  knees  and  bowed  his  head  in  his  hands. 
"If  I'm  not  the  original  Mr.  Tight  Wad !"  he  lamented. 
"But  you  must  forgive  me,  Matt.  I  got  in  the  habit 
of  thinking  of  expense  when  I  was  young,  and  I've 
never  gotten  over  it.  You  know  how  a  habit  gets  a 
grip  on  a  man,  don't  you,  Matt?  Oh,  if  you  had  only 
overruled  me  when  I  decided  to  save  money  by  cutting 
out  the  wireless  on  the  Narcissus!  I  remember  now 
you  wanted  it,  and  I  said:  'Well,  what's  the  use?  The 
Narcissus  hasn't  any  passenger  license  and  she  doesn't 
have  to  have  wireless — so  why  do  something  we  don't 
have  to  do?'  Skinner,  you  should  have  known 
enough " 

"I  am  managing  the  lumber  end  of  the  business,  Mr. 
Ricks,"  Skinner  retorted  icily. 

"Never  mind  what  you're  managing.  You're  my 
balance  wheel.  I've  raised  you  for  that  very  purpose. 
I've  been  twenty-five  years  breaking  you  in  to  your  job 
of  relieving  me  of  my  business  worries — and  you  don't 
do  it.  No,  you  don't,  Skinner.  Don't  deny  it,  now. 
You  don't.  I  pay  you  to  boss  me,  but  do  you  do  it? 
No,  sir.  You  let  me  have  my  own  way — when  I'm 
round  you're  afraid  to  say  your  soul's  your  own.  You 
two  boys  know  blamed  well  I'm  an  old  man  and  that 
an  old  man  will  make  mistakes.  It  is  your  duty  to 
watch  me.  I  pay  the  money,  but  I  don't  get  the  service. 
When  Matt  argued  with  me  about  the  wireless  you 
sided  in  with  me,  Skinner.  You've  got  that  infernal 
saving  habit,  too — drat  you !  Don't  deny  it,  Skinner. 
I  can  see  by  the  look  in  your  eye  you're  fixing  to  con 
tradict  me.  You're  as  miserable  a  miser  as  I  am — 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  37 

afraid  to  spend  five  cents  and  play  safe — you  penuri 
ous — er — er — fellow !  Skinner,  if  you  ever  forget  your 
self  long  enough  to  give  three  hoots  in  hell  you'll  want 
one  of  them  back.  See  now  what  your  niggardly  policy 
has  done  for  us?  At  a  time  when  we'd  hock  our  im 
mortal  souls  for  a  wireless  to  talk  to  Mike  Murphy  and 
tell  him  things,  where  are  we?"  Gappy  snapped  his 
fingers.  "Up  Salt  Creek— without  a  paddle!" 

"Come,  come,"  Matt  said  soothingly.  "As  Skinner 
says,  we  can  only  wait  and  pray " 

"All  right.  You  two  do  the  praying.  I'm  going  to 
sit  here  and  cuss." 

"Well,  we'll  hope  for  the  best,  Mr.  Ricks.  No  more 
crying  over  spilled  milk  now.  I'll  figure  out  when  the 
Narcissus  is  due  at  Pernambuco  and  cable  Mike  to  let 
his  crew  go.  And  you  know,  sir,  even  if  he  should  not 
receive  our  cablegram,  we  have  still  one  hope  left. 
True,  it  is  a  forlorn  one,  but  it's  worth  a  small  bet. 

The  crew  of  the  Narcissus  is  not  all  German.  There 
are ?> 

"Two  pro-German  Irishmen,  two  disinterested  Na 
tive  Son  Chinamen  and  a  little  runt  of  a  Cockney 
steward,"  Gappy  sneered.  "And  she  carries  a  crew  of 
forty,  all  told.  Matt,  those  odds  are  too  long  for  any 
bet  of  mine.  Besides,  Reardon  and  Murphy  hate  each 
other.  A  house  divided  against  itself,  you  know " 

"They  might  bang  each  other  all  over  the  main 
deck,"  Matt  replied  musingly,  "but  I'll  bet  they'll  fight 
side  by  side  for  the  ship.  Of  course  we  haven't  known 
Terence  Reardon  very  long ;  he  may  be  a  bad  one  after 
all ;  but  Mike  Murphy  will  go  far.  He's  as  cunning  as 
a  pet  fox.  and  he  may  make  up  in  strategy  what  he 
lacks  in  numbers." 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"The  Irish  are  so  filled  with  blarney "  Skinner 

began,  but  Cappy  cut  him  short  with  a  terrible  look. 

"There  goes  some  more  of  our  silver  lining,"  he 
rasped.  "Skinner,  what  are  you?  A  kill-joy?  Now, 
just  for  that,  I'm  going  to  agree  with  Matt.  A  man 
has  got  to  believe  something  jn  this  world  or  go  crazy, 
and  I  prefer  to  believe  that  the  ship  is  safe  with  those 
two  Hibernians  aboard — win,  lose  or  draw.  And  I 
want  you  two  to  quit  picking  on  me;  I  don't  want  the 
word  'Narcissus'  mentioned  in  my  presence  until  the 
ship  is  reported  confiscated  by  the  British,  if  her  coal 
is  for  the  Germans,  or  by  the  Germans,  if  her  coal  is 
for  the  British — which  it  isn't — or  until  Mike  Murphy 
reports  at  Manila  or  Batavia  and  cables  us  for  orders." 

"I'm  with  you  there,  sir,"  Matt  Peasley  declared. 
"I'm  going  to  bank  on  the  Irish,  and  refuse  to  believe  it 

possible  for  the  Nar for  a  certain  vessel  flying  our 

house-flag  to  be  caught  by  the  wrong  warship,  a  couple 
of  thousand  miles  off  her  course  and  with  coal,  or 
evidences  of  coal,  in  her  cargo  space.  Buck  up,  Skin 
ner.  A  little  Christian  Science  here,  boy.  Just  make 
up  your  mind  no  man  in  authority  is  going  to  come 
over  the  rail  of  the — of  a  certain  vessel — and  ask 
Mike  Murphy  or  his  successor  pro  tern,  for  a  look  at  his 
papers !" 

"If  she  ever  is  confiscated  on  an  illegal  errand," 
Skinner  mourned,  "and  Mike  Murphy  has  nothing 
more  tangible  than  a  dime-novel  tale  of  coercion  as  an 
excuse  for  being  in  that  latitude  and  longitude — well, 
we'll  never  get  our  bully  big  ship  back  again !" 

And  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  efficient  Mr. 
Skinner  so  far  forgot  himself  as  to  swear  in  the  office ! 


CHAPTER  VI 

Throughout  the  long,  lazy  days  that  the  Nar 
cissus  rolled  into  the  South,  Captain  Michael  J.  Mur 
phy's  alert  brain  was  busy  every  spare  moment, 
striving  to  discover,  in  the  incomprehensible  charter 
his  owners  had  made  for  him,"  what  the  French  call  la 
raison  d'etre.  Not  having  any  wireless,  he  was  unable 
to  keep  in  touch  with  the  stirring  events  being  enacted 
in  Europe  and  on  the  high  seas,  as  news  of  the  said 
events  filtered  by  him  through  space.  While  on  the 
West  Coast,  where  all  the  newspapers  are  printed  in 
Spanish,  he  had  been  equally  barred  from  keeping  in 
touch  with  the  war,  although  en  route  through  the 
Panama  Canal  he  did  his  best  to  buy  up  all  the  old 
newspapers  on  the  Zone. 

Upon  arrival  in  New  York  with  his  cargo  of  nitrate, 
his  anxiety  to  make  a  record  in  his  first  command  in 
steam  caused  him  to  stay  on  the  job  every  moment  the 
Narcissus  was  discharging,  for  Cappy  Ricks  had  im 
pressed  upon  him,  as  he  impressed  upon  every  skipper 
in  the  Blue  Star  employ,  the  fact  that  a  slow  boat  is 
slow  paying  dividends.  Consequently,  the  worthy  cap 
tain  had  had  no  time  to  acquaint  himself  with  the 
movements  of  the  various  fleets,  and  when  he  sent  his 
day  letter  to  his  owners  on  the  morning  of  the  day  he 
sailed  from  Norfolk  for  Pernambuco,  his  action  was 
predicate*!,  not  on  what  he  knew,  but  on  what  he  felt. 

39 


40  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

The  sixth  sense  that  all  real  sailors  possess  warned 
him  that  his  cargo  of  coal  was  not  destined  for  Batavia 
nor  yet  Manila,  but  for  delivery  at  sea  to  the  warships 
of  some  foreign  nation.  Devoutly  Michael  J.  hoped 
it  wasn't  for  the  British  fleet,  since  in  such  a  contin 
gency  he  would  be  cruelly  torn  between  his  love  and 
duty.  Consequently  he  resolved  that,  should  the  choice 
of  alternatives  be  forced  upon  him,  he  would  steer  a 
middle  course  and  resign  his  command. 

On  the  other  hand,  Mike  Murphy  knew  Matt  Peasley 
and  Cappy  Ricks  to  be  intensely  pro-Ally  in  their 
sympathies,  despite  the  President's  proclamation  of 
neutrality  and  the  polite  requests  of  the  motion-picture 
houses  for  their  audiences  to  remain  perfectly  quiet 
while  Field-Marshal  von  Hindenburg,  Sir  John  French 
and  General  Joffre  came  on  the  screen  and  bowed. 
Under  the  circumstances,  therefore,  Murphy  found  it 
very  difficult  to  suspect  his  owners  of  conspiring  to 
deliver  a  cargo  of  coal  to  the  German  fleet  at  sea.  No, 
indeed!  Matt  Peasley  and  Cappy  Ricks  were  too  in 
tensely  American  for  that;  indeed,  Cappy  was  always 
saying  he  hoped  to  see  an  American  mercantile  marine 
established  before  he  should  be  gathered  to  the  bosom 
of  Abraham. 

From  whatever  angle  the  doughty  skipper  viewed  it, 
therefore,  the  tangle  became  more  and  more  incom 
prehensible.  Cappy  and  Matt  knew  full  well  the  rules 
of  the  game  as  promulgated  by  their  Uncle  Samuel, 
and  the  dire  penalties  for  infraction.  However, 
granted  that  they  knew  they  could  scheme  successfully 
to  evade  punishment  at  the  hands  of  their  own  govern 
ment,  Mike  Murphy  knew  full  well  that  no  man  could 
guarantee  immunity  from  the  right  of  a  belligerent 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  41 

warship  to  visit  and  search,  or  from  confiscation  or 
months  of  demurrage  in  a  prize  court  in  the  event  that 
his  ship's  papers  and  the  course  the  vessel  was  trav 
elling  failed  to  justify  her  presence  in  that  particular 
longitude  and  latitude.  And  with  the  huge  profits  to 
be  made  in  neutral  trade,  it  seemed  incomprehensible 
that  a  sound  business  man  like  Cappy  Ricks  should 
assume  all  these  risks  for  the  sake  of  a  little  extra 
money.  Surely  he  must  realize  that  if  he  sent  her  on 
an  illegal  errand  her  war-risk  insurance  would  not  hold. 
On  the  other  hand,  it  appeared  to  Murphy  that  the 
charter  must  have  been  consummated  with  the  full 
knowledge  and  consent  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company,  for  the  veriest  tyro  in  the  shipping  business 
could  not  have  failed  to  be  suspicious  of  that  clause 
in  the  charter  party,  stipulating  a  call  at  Pernambuco 
for  orders.  Of  course  there  was  the  possibility  that 
this  acquiescence  had  been  due  to  misrepresentation 
on  the  part  of  the  New  York  agents  or  rank  stupidity 
on  the  part  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company. 
But  Seaborn  &  Company  were  above  a  shady  deal. 
In  putting  through  the  charter  for  the  Blue  Star  Navi 
gation  Company  it  might  have  occurred  to  them  that 
all  was  not  as  it  should  be,  but  that  was  none  of  their 
business.  If  they  spread  their  hand  and  permitted 
Cappy  Ricks  an  unobstructed  view,  it  was  up  to  Cappy 
to  decide  and  order  them  to  close  or  reject  the  charter. 
As  for  stupidity  on  the  part  of  the  Blue  Star  Naviga 
tion  Company,  Murphy  knew  full  well  that  stupidity 
was  the  crime  Cappy  Ricks  found  it  hardest  to  forgive. 
Even  had  Cappy  overlooked  that  suspicious  clause  in 
the  charter,  because  of  his  age,  Matt  Peasley's  ^outh 
and  practical  maritime  knowledge  should  have  offset 


42  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Cappy's  error;  and  even  if  both  had  erred,  there  still 
remained  the  matchless  Skinner,  as  suspicious  as  a 
burglar,  as  keen  as  a  razor,  as  infallible  as  a  chronom 
eter. 

No,  it  just  didn't  seem  possible  that  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  had  gone  into  the  deal  with  eyes 
wide  open;  on  the  contrary,  it  seemed  equally  impos 
sible  that  they  had  gone  into  it  with  their  eyes  shut. 
Consequently  Michael  J.  decided  to  wake  them  up — 
provided  they  slept  on  the  job — and  to  give  them  an 
opportunity  to  repent  before  it  should  be  too  late. 

He  felt  very  much  better  after  sending  that  tele 
gram,  but  as  the  Narcissus  ploughed  steadily  south  at 
the  rate  of  two  hundred  and  thirty  miles  a  day,  he 
began  to  grieve  because  he  had  no  wireless  to  bring 
him  a  prompt  reply ;  he  berated  himself  for  not  waiting 
at  the  dock  in  Norfolk  until  Ms  owners  should  have 
had  an  opportunity  to  answer;  he  abused  himself  for 
his  timidity  in  questioning  the  judgment  of  his  owners, 
for  indeed  he  had  been  content  to  hint  when  more  de 
cisive  action  was  demanded. 

How  Michael  J.  Murphy  yearned  to  discuss  his  prob 
lem  with  some  one  as  loyal  and  devoted  to  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company  as  himself!  His  dignity 
as  master  of  the  Narcissus,  however,  bade  him  refrain 
from  discussing  the  integrity  of  his  owners  with  his 
mates — particularly  with  new  mates,  to  whom  the 
house-flag  stood  for  naught  but  a  symbol  of  monthly 
revenue.  In  fact,  of  the  forty-one  men  under  him, 
there  was  but  one  with  whom  he  could,  with  entire 
dignity,  discuss  the  matter.  That  man  was  Terence 
Reardon.  But  even  here  he  was  barred,  for  since  he 
had  called  the  chief  engineer  a  renegade,  the  only  pos- 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  43 

sible  discussion  that  could  obtain  between  them  now 
must  be  anything  but  academic ;  in  consequence  of 
which  Michael  J.  Murphy  was  forced  to  hug  his  appre 
hensions  to  himself  until  the  Narcissus  steamed  slowly 
into  the  outer  harbor  of  Pernambuco.  Ten  minutes 
after  she  dropped  her  big  hook  the  skipper's  suspicions 
were  crystallized  into  certainty. 

Just  as  she  came  to  anchor  the  steward  appeared 
on  deck,  vociferously  beating  his  triangle  to  announce 
supper — for  at  sea  dinner  is  always  supper. 

"Mr.  Schultz,"  the  captain  called  from  the  bridge, 
"as  soon  as  your  men  have  had  their  supper  clear  away 
the  working  boat.  I'm  going  ashore." 

"Very  veil,  sir,"  Mr.  Schultz  replied  heartily,  and  the 
captain  went  below  to  supper.  He  was  scarcely  seated 
before  Mr.  Schultz  stuck  his  head  in  the  dining  saloon 
window  and  announced  that  a  gentleman  who  claimed 
to  represent  the  charterers  was  alongside  in  a  launch 
and  desired  to  come  aboard  and  speak  with  him. 

"Let  down  the  accommodation  ladder,  Mr.  Schultz, 
and  when  the  gentleman  comes  aboard,  show  him  round 
to  my  state-room,"  the  skipper  answered.  "I'll  meet 
him  there  in  a  pig's  whisper.  It  is  probable  he  has 
come  aboard  with  our  orders,  Mr.  Schultz,  so  never 
mind  clearing  away  the  boat  until  I  speak  to  you 
further  about  it.  Steward,  set  an  extra  cover  at  my 
right.  We  may  have  a  guest  for  supper." 

He  hurried  round  to  his  state-room  and  donned  a 
uniform  coat  to  receive  his  visitor.  Mr.  Schultz  came 
presently,  bearing  a  visiting-card  upon  which  was  en 
graved  the  name:  Mr.  August  Carl  von  Staden.  Be 
hind  the  mate  a  sailor  with  a  bulging  suitcase  stood  at 


44  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

attention;  two  more  sailors  stood  behind  the  first,  a 
steamer  trunk  between  them,  and  as  Captain  Murphy' 
stepped  out  on  deck  to  greet  his  visitor  he  observed  a 
tall,  athletic,  splendid-looking  fellow  coming  leisurely 
toward  him  along  the  deck.  The  stranger  carried  a 
large  Gladstone  bag. 

The  captain  bowed.  "I  am  the  skipper  of  this  big 
box,"  he  announced  pleasantly.  "Murphy  is  my 
name." 

Herr  von  Staden  shook  hands  and  in  most  excellent 
English,  without  the  slightest  trace  of  a  German  ac 
cent,  expressed  his  pleasure  in  the  meeting.  The  cap 
tain  cast  a  glance  of  frank  curiosity  at  the  bag  von 
Staden  carried  and  at  the  baggage  the  sailors  had  in 
tow.  Von  Staden  interpreted  the  glance  and  smiled. 

"I  have  brought  you  your  orders,  Captain  Murphy. 
They  are  contained  in  this  envelope ;"  and  he  handed  a 
blank  envelope  to  the  captain.  "However,  I  happened 
to  know  that  one  of  the  orders  is  to  provide  a  berth 
for  me.  I'm  to  go  with  you  as  supercargo."  * 

"I  hadn't  heard  anything  about  such  a  possibility," 
Mike  Murphy  replied,  with  just  a  shade  of  formality 
in  his  tones.  He  turned  to  the  first  mate:  "Mr. 
Schultz,  will  you  be  good  enough  to  see  to  it  that  Mr. 
von  Staden's  baggage  is  stowed  in  the  owners'  suite. 
Then  tell  the  steward  to  see  that  our  guest's  quarters 
are  put  in  order.  Mr.  von  Staden,  will  you  kindly  step 
into  my  stateroom  here  while  I  read  these  orders?" 

Von  Staden  nodded.  Entering  the  captain's  room 
he  sat  down  on  the  settee  and  lighted  a  gold-tipped 
cigarette,  while  Murphy  tore  open  the  envelope.  It 
contained  a  cablegram  reading  as  follows: 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  45 

"Von  Staden  &  Ulrich, — Pernambuco,  Brazil, — Ornillo 
Montevideo. 

"BL.UESTAR." 

The  captain  reached  for  his  telegraphic-code  book. 
When  decoded  the  message  read: 

"Instruct  captain  to  proceed  to  Montevideo  and  there 
await  further  orders. 

"BLUE  STAR  NAVIGATION  COMPANY/' 

The  cablegram  had  been  filed  at  San  Francisco  two 
days  before.  Murphy  looked  keenly  at  his  guest,  who 
smoked  tranquilly  and  returned  the  look  without  in 
terest. 

"Mr.  von  Staden,"  the  captain  announced,  "these 
are  strange  orders,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  I  cleared 
from  New  York  for  Manila  or  Batavia,  via  the  Cape 
of  Good  Hope.  It  would  be  a  sure  sign  of  bad  luck  to 
the  steamer  Narcissus  if  a  British  cruiser  should  pick 
her  up  off  the  coast  of  Uruguay." 

Von  Staden  smiled.  "You  are  very  direct,  captain 
— very  blunt  indeed.  This  is  a  characteristic  more 
Teutonic  than  Celtic,  I  believe,  so  I  shall  experience 
no  embarrassment  in  being  equally  frank  with  you. 
Your  cargo  of  coal  is  designed  for  our  German  Pacific 
fleet." 

"I  guessed  as  much,  sir.  Nevertheless,  my  owners 
did  not  see  fit  to  take  me  into  their  confidence  in  this 
illegal  undertaking,  Mr.  von  Staden " 

"They  did  not  think  it  necessary,"  von  Staden  inter 
rupted  smilingly.  "In  fact,  Captain  Peasley  assured 
our  people  in  New  York  that  your  sympathies  are  so 
overwhelming  in  favor  of  our  cause  we  need  anticipate 


46  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

no  worry  as  to  the  course  you  would  pursue.  More 
over,  in  the  event  of  a  judicial  inquiry  it  would  be  an 
advantage  if  you  could  say  that  you  had  had  no  voice 
in  the  matter,  but  had  been  instructed  to  obey  the 
orders  of  the  charterers — of  whom  we  are  the  agents 
in  Pernambuco.  Perhaps  this  cablegram  will  allay 
your  fears,"  and  he  drew  an  unopened  cablegram  from 
his  pocket  and  handed  it  to  Murphy.  It  was  a  code 
cablegram,  signed  by  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany  and  addressed  to  Murphy  in  care  of  von  Staden 
&  Ulrich.  When  decoded  it  read: 

"Execute  the  orders  of  supercargo  if  possible.  It  may 
lead  to  further  business.  Charterers  must  take  the  risk. 
We  do  not  think  there  is  any  risk.  Please  remain." 

This  cablegram  was  signed  "Matt." 

"Well,  captain?"  von  Staden  queried  politely. 

"I  don't  like  this  business  at  all,"  the  captain  replied. 
"My  ow.ners  may  think  there  is  no  risk,  but  I'm  afraid. 
England  controls  the  seas " 

"We  are  in  possession  of  the  secret  code  of  the 
British  Navy,  Captain  Murphy.  We  know  the  ap 
proximate  location  of  every  British  warship  in  the 
Atlantic  and  Pacific — and  I  assure  you  there  is  no 
risk." 

"Well,  my  boss  informs  me  the  charterers  assume  the 
risk,  so  I  suppose  I  shouldn't  worry  over  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company's  end  of  the  gamble.  They  know 
their  own  business,  I  dare  say.  Evidently  they  feared 
I  might  want  to  resign,  so  I  have  been  asked  to  remain ; 
and  when  Captain  Peasley  says  'please'  to  me,  Mr. 
von  Staden,  I  find  it  very,  very  hard  to  refuse." 

"I  am  glad,  for  the  sake  of  our  selfish  interests,  mr 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  47 

dear  captain,  to  find  you  so  loyal  to  your  owners' 
financial  interests,"  the  supercargo  replied  heartily. 
"Now  that  you  have  decided  to  remain,  I  need  not  point 
out  to  you  the  danger  of  a  resignation  at  this  time. 
It  might  lead  to  some  unlooked-for  developments  which 
might  prejudice  your  owners,  although  I  think  they 
have  covered  their  tracks  very  effectually.  Neverthe 
less,  it  is  not  well  to  take  the  slightest  risk " 

"Without  being  well  paid  for  it,"  Murphy  inter 
rupted  sneeringly.  "My  owners  have  been  well  paid 
for  their  risk,  but  where  do  I  come  in?  I  haven't  been 
promised  double  my  usual  salary,  or  a  split  on  the 
profits  of  the  voyage;  and  I  know  if  I  were  to  com 
mand  a  vessel  loaded  with  munitions  of  war  I  would  not 
be  asked  to  take  her  into  the  North  Sea  at  the  cus 
tomary  skipper's  wages.  I'd  be  offered  a  large  bonus." 

"You  forget,  my  dear  captain,  that  your  charterers 
assume  all  the  risks.  One  of  them  was  the  risk  that 
you  might  resign  unless  you  received  adequ&te  com 
pensation.  I  came  aboard  prepared  to  insure  that 
risk,"  and  he  touched  with  his  toe  the  Gladstone  bag. 
"What  do  you  say  to  $5,000?" 

Michael  J.  Murphy  smiled.  "It  is  pleasant,  sir,"  he 
said,  "to  be  paid  $5,000  for  doing  something  one 
yearns  to  do  for  nothing.  I  am  not  a  hog.  Five  thou 
sand  dollars  is  sufficient.  How  do  I  get  it — and  when?" 

"In  gold  coin  of  the  United  Spates,  or  gold  certifi 
cates  of  the  same  interesting  country,  my  dear  captain, 
and  you  may  have  it  immediately."  Again  Herr  von 
Staden  kicked  the  Gladstone  bag. 

"I'll  take  it  in  gold  certificates.  And  in  order  that 
my  dear  old  father  and  mother  may  have  the  benefit  of 
my  rascality  in  case  anything  unforeseen  should  arise 


48  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

to  prevent  my  return,  I  suggest  you  hand  over  the 
boodle  this  minute,  and  I'll  go  ashore  and  express  it 
home." 

"Captain  Murphy,  you   are  a  man  after  my  own 

heart " 

"I  am  not  a  born  fool,  sir,"  Murphy  interrupted. 
"I'm  accepting  this  money  to  be  a  fool,  well  knowing 
it  is  foolish  to  do  it,  for  still  I  am  taking  a  risk.  I 
am  thirty-eight  years  old,  Mr.  von  Staden,  and  a 
skipper  as  young  as  that  has  his  future  all  before  him. 
Set  him  down  on  the  beach,  however,  with  his  ticket 
revoked  for  all  time — and  his  future  is  behind  him." 

"In  that  event,"  the  supercargo  replied,  "you  might 
accept  my  assurance,  without  questioning  my  authority 
for  such  assurance,  that  you  would  have  no  difficulty 
in  procuring  a  remunerative  position  ashore.  The 
firm  of  von  Staden  &  Ulrich  could  use  you  very 
handily." 

"Thank  you,  sir.  Consider  the  matter  settled.  Will 
you  come  ashore  with  me,  sir,  and  dine,  or  would  you 
prefer  to  have  supper  aboard?" 

"I  beg  of  you  to  be  excused  from  going  ashore,  cap 
tain.  I  have  much  to  do  to-night.  The  launch  which 
brought  me  alongside  has  a  knocked-down  wireless 
plant  aboard,  and  I  am  anxious  to  have  it  set  up  on 
your  good  ship  Narcissus — a  task  I  shall  have  to  over 
see  personally.  I  shall  probably  work  all  night." 

"Praise  be!"  Michael  J.  Murphy  answered  heartily. 
"We'll  have  some  interest  in  life  now.  We  can  get  all 
the  war  news,  going  and  coming,  can't  we?  Have  3^ou 
brought  along  an  operator?" 

"I  am  an  operator,"  the  supercargo  answered.  "By 
the  by,  can  you  fix  me  up  with  a  wireless  room?" 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  49 

"There  are  two  staterooms  and  a  bath  in  the  owners' 
suite  which  you  will  occupy.  You  can  take  your 
choice." 

"Good.  I  shall  want  to  sleep  close  to  my  instru 
ment." 

He  opened  the  bag,  counted  out  five  one-thousand- 
dollar  gold  certificates  of  the  United  States  of  America 
and  handed  them  to  the  captain. 

"The  grand  old  rag,"  Michael  J.  murmured.  "How 
many  rascals  fight  under  the  flag  of  old  King  Spondu- 
lics !" 

"I  believe  you  have  an  Irish  chief  engineer,"  von 
Staden  continued.  "While  I  understand  his  sympa 
thies  are  with  us,  still  it  seems  only  right  to  com 
pensate " 

"Suit  yourself,  Mr.  von  Staden." 

"What  kind  of  a  man  is  he,  captain?" 

"I'd  hate  to  tell  you.  I've  had  little  to  do  with  him, 
but  that  little  was  enough.  We  avoid  each  other  as 
much  as  possible  and  never  speak  except  in  the  line  of 
duty.  I  make  no  bones  of  the  fact  that  I  think  he's  a 
scrub." 

Mr.  von  Staden  nodded  sagely.  "Perhaps  I'd  better 
wait  and  get  acquainted  with  him,"  he  suggested,  and 
closed  'his  bag.  Murphy  showed  him  to  his  quarters, 
which  the  steward,  under  the  first  mate's  supervision, 
was  already  setting  in  order ;  and,  having  decided  to  set 
up  the  wireless  in  the  sleeping-room,  von  Staden  ac 
companied  the  skipper  round  to  superintend  the  taking 
on  board  of  the  wireless  plant  from  the  gasoline  launch 
bobbing  alongside.  When  the  equipment  was  finally 
hoisted  to  the  deck  of  the  Narcissus,  Michael  J. 
Murphy  boarded  the  launch  and  was  whisked  ashore  for 


50  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

the  avowed  purpose  of  sending  to  his  aged  parents  the 
fruits  of  his  elastic  conscience. 

Herr  August  Carl  von  Staden  stood  at  the  head  of 
the  accommodation  ladder  and  smiled  as  the  launch 
disappeared  into  the  tropic  twilight.  Then  he  said 
something  in  German  to  Mr.  Schultz,  who  laughed. 
Evidently  it  was  very  good  news,  for  even  the  quarter 
master  at  the  companion  ladder  smiled  covertly.  It  is 
possible  they  would  not  have  felt  so  cheerful  had  they 
known  that  Michael  J.  Murphy's  "dear  old  father  and 
mother"  had  been  sleeping  in  a  Boston  cemetery  some 
fifteen  years,  and  that  their  last  words  to  Michael  had 
been  an  exhortation  to  remember  that  manliness  and 
honor  must  be  his  only  heritage.  And  as  the  launch 
bore  him  shoreward,  he  looked  back  and  grinned  at  the 
dim,  duck-clad  figure  of  von  Staden. 

"Your  agents  looked  me  up,  my  hearty ,"  he  solilo 
quized,  "and  if  they  did  their  work  half  well,  they  told 
you  I  was  an  honest  man.  Only  a  crook  comes  with 
a  bag  of  gold  to  talk  illegitimate  business  with  an  hon 
est  man.  I'm  banking  you're  as  crooked  as  a  bed 
spring,  and  that  there's  something  fishy  about  this 
enterprise.  Gappy  Ricks  isn't  fully  informed,  other 
wise  he  wouldn't  b«  doing  business  with  a  crook !" 


CHAPTER  VII 

Arrived  ashore,  Captain  Murphy  hurried  to  the 
cable  office,  registered  his  cable  address,  borrowed  a 
code  book  and  sent  a  code  telegram  to  his  owner. 
Then,  having  subsidized  the  operator  liberally  to  rush 
it,  Michael  J.  Murphy  set  out  for  a  stroll  among  the 
limited  attractions  of  Pernambuco.  His  cablegram 
would  get  through  in  two  hours  at  the  very  most,  and 
though  the  captain  figured  the  Blue  Star  offices  would 
be  closed  when  the  message  reached  San  Francisco,  still 
he  was  not  discouraged.  He  knew  the  cable  company 
always  telephoned  to  Mr.  Skinner,  at  his  home,  all  Blue 
Star  and  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  messages  arriving 
after  office  hours  and  before  midnight.  Naturally 
Skinner  could  be  depended  upon  to  have  a  copy  of  the 
code  at  home,  and  if  he  didn't  Murphy  knew  he  would 
rush  down  to  the  office,  no  matter  what  the  hour,  and 
decode  it  there.  Of  course  he  would  cable  his  reply 
immediately,  in  which  event  it  might  be  that  the  cap 
tain  would  have  an  answer  shortly  after  midnight  or 
by  breakfast  at  the  latest. 

He  decided,  therefore,  to  return  to  the  cable  office 
about  midnight  and  await  the  reply  to  his  cablegram. 
He  had  proceeded  but  a  few  blocks  from  the  cable 
office,  however,  before  a  disturbing  thought  struck  him 
with  such  force  as  to  bring  him  to  an  abrupt  pause. 

His  owners  had  cabled  him  in  care  of  von  Staden  cy 
Ulrich,  when  in  the  telegram  sent  just  before  sailing 

51 


52  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

from  Norfolk  "he  had  instructed  them  to  cable  him  in 
care  of  the  American  consul.  Murphy's  native  shrewd 
ness  had  made  him  suspicious  of  von  Staden  the  instant 
the  latter  had  so  nonchalantly  offered  him  a  bribe  of 
five  thousand  dollars,  for  the  proffer  of  a  bribe  of  that 
magnitude,  without  any  preliminary  bargaining,  did 
'not  co-ordinate  with  Michael's  idea  of  business.  Cer 
tainly  if  the  charterers  had  his  owners  "fixed,"  five  thou 
sand  dollars  was  too  much  money  to  give  their  captain, 
particularly  since  there  were  available  any  number  of 
capable  rascals  eager  to  do  the  job  for  twenty-five 
hundred,  and  the  devil  take  the  consequences. 

At  the  time  von  Staden  had  handed  him  the  two 
cablegrams  from  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company, 
no  suspicion  that  they  were  forgeries  had  entered  the 
captain's  mind;  indeed,  Matt  Peasley's  cablegram  to 
him  appeared  at  first  blush  to  be  an  answer  to  the 
telegram  which  Murphy  had  sent  his  owners  from  Nor 
folk.  In  that  telegram  Murphy  had  mentioned  his  sus 
picions  and  hinted  at  unwarranted  risks  and  the  pos 
sibility  of  the  circumstances  attending  the  delivery  of 
his  cargo  forcing  his  resignation.  Matt's  cablegram 
handed  him  by  von  Staden  urged  him  to  remain  in  the 
ship  and  assured  him  there  were  no  risks ;  that  if  there 
were,  the  charterers  assumed  them.  For  the  nonce, 
therefore,  the  master's  mind  did  not  dwell  on  any 
doubts  as  to  the  genuineness  of  the  orders  he  had  re 
ceived,  even  though  he  decided  instantly  as  a  precau 
tionary  measure  to  confirm  them  before  proceeding  to 
carry  them  out.  This,  however,  was  merely  because  he 
was  suspicious  of  von  Staden  and  desired  to  obviate  the 
possibility  of  that  individual's  double-crossing  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  53 

Under  the  circumstances,  therefore,  he  had  consid 
ered  it  good  policy  to  appear  to  fall  readily  in  line, 
and,  the  better  to  disarm  von  Staden's  watchfulness, 
he  had  demanded  extra  compensation.  The  ease  with 
which  the  bribe  had  been  secured  having  crystallized 
his  suspicions,  instantly  he  had  cast  about  in  his  in 
genious  brain  for  a  good  sound  excuse  for  going  ashore 
and  cabling  his  owners.  To  demand  his  bribe  in  ad 
vance  and  then  announce  that  he  would  go  ashore  and 
express  it  to  those  dependent  upon  him,  in  case  he 
failed  to  return  and  enjoy  it  himself,  seemed  to  present 
a  reason  that  would  not  be  questioned  and  accordingly 
he  had  done  so. 

Michael  J.  Murphy  removed  his  uniform  cap  and 
thoughtfully  scratched  his  head.  "Now  why,"  he  de 
manded  of  the  scented  night,  "did  Matt  cable  me  in 
care  of  that  German  firm  when  he  must  have  known  I 
would  call  on  the  American  consul  in  the  expectation 
of  finding  a  cablegram  there?"  He  shook  his  head. 
"They've  got  us  winging,  Michael,"  he  soliloquized, 
"so  I  suppose  the  only  thing  to  do  is  to  play  safe,  call 
upon  the  American  consul  immediately  if  not  sooner, 
and  ask  if  he  has  a  cablegram  for  us." 

And  without  further  ado  the  worthy  fellow  sprang 
into  a  cab  and  was  whirled  away  to  the  residence  of 
the  American  consul.  Yes,  the  consul  had  a  cablegram 
for  him,  but  it  was  at  his  office.  Could  Captain 
Murphy  not  wait  until  morning? 

Most  emphatically  Captain  Murphy  could  not. 
That  cablegram  was  important;  it  meant  a  great  deal 
of  money  and  possibly  life  or  death 

Regretfully  the  consul  entered  the  cab  with  the  cap 
tain,  drove  to  the  consulate  and  delivered  the  cable- 


54  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

gram  to  the  eager  mariner,  who  swore  when  he  dis 
covered  it  was  in  cipher  and  not  code,  for  this  necessi 
tated  immediate  return  to  the  Narcissus  in  order  to 
obtain  the  key  to  the  cipher.  He  thanked  the  consul 
and  sent  the  latter  home  in  the  cab,  while  he  hurried 
for  the  harbor  front  and  the  nearest  boat  landing.  He 
was  filled  with  apprehension,  for  indeed  there  was  some 
thing  radically  wrong  when  his  owners  cabled  him  in 
the  secret  cipher  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany — something  the  company  had,  doubtless,  never 
found  occasion  to  do  before.  For  while  each  vessel  of 
the  Blue  Star  fleet  had  a  copy  of  the  A.L.  code  aboard, 
with  the  cipher  key  typewritten  and  pasted  on  the 
second  fly-leaf,  not  a  single  Blue  Star  skipper  knew 
why  it  had  been  pasted  there  or  why  the  company 
should  have  gone  to  the  trouble  of  getting  up  any  one 
of  the  hundreds  of  secret  ciphers  possible  to  be  de 
veloped  from  the  A.  L.  Telegraphic  Code.  This  was  a 
secret  that  lay  locked  in  the  breast  of  Mr.  Skinner.  It 
is  probable,  however,  that  it  had  occurred  to  him  in  an 
idle  moment  that  a  secret  cipher  might  come  in  handy 
some  day,  and  Mr.  Skinner  believed  in  being  prepared 
for  emergencies. 

The  captain  bade  the  launch  wait  for  him  at  the 
accommodation  ladder,  while  he  hurried  round  to  his 
state-room  and  promptly  fell  to  work  on  Mr.  Skinner's 
cipher  cablegram.  When  he  had  laboriously  deciphered 
it  this  is  what  he  read : 

"Unaccountably  failed  note  suspicious  clause  charter. 
Something  rotten.  We  are  playing  square  game.  Think 
plot  deliver  coal  German  fleet  South  Atlantic.  Discharge 
your  German  crew  immediately,  first  notifying  Brazilian 
authorities  and  American  consul.  Have  help  when  you 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  55 

notify  them  game  is  off,  otherwise  may  take  vessel  away 
from  you.  They  will  stop  at  nothing;  fleet  desperate  for 
coal.  Cable  acknowledgment  these  orders ;  also  cable  when 
orders  fulfilled.  Very  anxious. 

"BLUE  STAR  NAVIGATION  COMPANY." 

"Ah-h-h!"  breathed  Michael  J.  Murphy  softly,  but 
very  distinctly.  "So  that's  the  game,  eh?"  His  big 
square  chin  set  viciously;  subconsciously  he  clenched 
his  hard  fist  and  shook  it  at  his  enemies.  "The  cunning 
Dutch  devils !"  he  murmured  very  audibly,  and  at  that 
precise  instant  Herr  August  Carl  von  Staden  stood  in 
the  open  doorway.  He  coughed,  and  Murphy  glanced 
up  from  the  translation  of  the  cipher  message  just  in 
time  to  note  a  swift  shadow  pass  over  the  supercargo's 
face,  a  shadow  composed  of  equal  parts  of  suspicion, 
embarrassment  and  desperation. 

"You  have  returned  very  promptly,  captain,"  he  re 
marked  smoothly,  and  then  his  restless  glance  fell  on 
the  cablegram  and  beside  it  the  scratch  pad  and  the 
two  parallel  columns  of  words  scrawled  on  it.  A  man 
of  far  less  intelligence  than  von  Staden  possessed  would 
have  realized  as  quickly  that  the  first  column  was  com 
posed  of  cipher  words,  while  the  second  column  was  the 
translation.  From  this  tell-tale  evidence  his  suspicious 
glance  lifted  to  the  skipper's  face,  and  he  read  in 
Michael  J.  Murphy's  black  eyes  the  wild  rage  which 
no  Irishman  could  have  concealed — which  the  majority 
of  his  race  would  not  even  have  taken  the  trouble  to 
endeavor  to  conceal. 

In  that  glance  each  learned  the  other's  secret;  each 
realized  that  the  success  of  his  plans  depended  on  the 
silence  of  the  other;  each  resolved  instantly  to  procure 
that  silence  at  any  cost.  Von  Staden  reached  for  his 


56  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

**  • 

g%. 

hip  pocket,  but  before  he  could  draw  his  automatic 
pistol  and  cover  the  skipper,  Michael  J.  Murphy-  had 
hurled  ten  pounds  of  code  book  into  the  geometric 
centre  of  the  supercargo's  face.  It  was  the  first 
weapon  his  hand  closed  over,  and  he  did  not  disc&iin  it. 
The  instant  it  landed  and  von  Staden  reeled  bef^e  the 
blow,  Murphy  came  out  of  his  state-room  with  a'scut- 
tering  rush  and  von  Staden  fired  as  he  came.  The 
captain  felt  the  sting  of  the  bullet  as  it  creased  the  top 
of  his  left  shoulder;  then  his  right  fist  came  up  in  a 
blow  that  started  at  his  hip  and  landed  fairly  under 
the  supercargo's  heart.  Von  Staden  grunted  once,  the 
pistol  dropped  clattering  to  the  deck  and  he  folded  up 
like  an  accordion.  For  him  the  battle  was  over. 

Not  so,  however,  with  Mike  Murphy.  Gone  to  the 
winds  now  was  the  caution  he  would  have  exercised  had 
the  attack  been  delayed  two  seconds  longer;  forgotten 
was  the  shrewd  advice  of  his  owners  to  have  help  stand 
ing  by  when  the  ship  cleaning  should  commence. 
Michael  J.  Murphy  thought  of  nothing  but  blood,  for 
the  fight  had  started  now  and  he  was  loath  to  have  it 
cease. 

"You  bloody  murderer !"  he  growled.  "You'd  kill  me 
and  steal  my  ship,  would  you?  And  with  the  reckless 
abandon  of  a  sailor  he  planted  the  broad  toe  of  a 
number  nine  boot  in  Herr  von  Staden's  short  ribs, 
hoping  to  break  a  few,  for  in  the  process  of  working 
his  way  up  from  the  bottom  Michael  had  fought  under 
deep-sea  rules  too  often  to  be  squeamish  now.  So  he 
kicked  Herr  von  Staden  again,  after  which  a  glimmer 
of  reason  penetrated  his  hot  head  and  he  walked  to 
pick  up  the  supercargo's  automatic  pistol.  Then 
something  landed  on  him  from  above  and  he  went  down 


GAPPY  RICKS  rlETIRES  57 

backward.  His  head  struck  the  deck  with  a  resounding 
thump,  and  Michael  J.  Murphy  had  a  through  ticket 
to  the  Land  of  Nod  and  no  stop-over  privileges. 

The  something  which  had  thus  inopportunely 
dropped  on  Michael  was  Mr.  Henckel,  the  second  mate. 
He  had  gone  up  on  the  bridge  to  see  if  the  canvas 
jacket  had- been  dropped  over  the  brightly  polished 
brass  engine-room  telegraph  apparatus  at  each  end  of 
the  bridge,  in  order  to  protect  it  from  the  tropical 
dew.  While  thus  engaged  he  had  heard  the  shot  which 
von  Staden  fired  at  the  captain,  and  forthwith  had 
run  across  the  top  of  'the  house  and  peered  over  to 
discover  what  was  happening  on  the  deck  below.  Dis 
covering  the  captain  in  the  act  of  kicking  a  distin 
guished  son  of  the  Fatherland  in  that  fragile  section 
of  the  human  anatomy  frequently  referred  to  as  the 
"slats,"  the  second  mate  had  stood  a  moment,  immobile 
with  horror,  the  while  he  gazed  upon  the  fearful  scene. 
Then  the  captain  walked  to  a  spot  on  the  deck  directly 
beneath  the  position  occupied  by  his  subordinate,  and 
stooped  to  pick  something  up. 

Even  their  enemies  are  proud  of  the  dash  and  gal 
lantry,  the  utter  contempt  for  consequences,  which 
animate  the  German  going  into  battle,  and  Mr. 
Henckel,  second  mate  of  the  S.S.  Narcissus,  was  as  fine 
a  German  as  one  could  find  in  a  day's  travel.  The 
instant  Michael  J.  Murphy  stooped  to  recover  von 
Staden's  automatic  pistol,  therefore,  Mr.  Henckel  saw 
his  duty  and,  in  the  language  of  the  elect,  "he  went 
an'  done  it" — the  which  was  absurdly  simple.  He 
merely  leaped  down  off  the  house  on  top  of  the  captain, 
and  forthwith  deep  peace  and  profound  silence  brooded 
over  the  good  ship  Narcissus,  of  San  Francisco. 


58  GAPPY  KICKS  RETIRES 

It  is  worthy  of  remark  here  that  Mr.  Terence  Rear- 
don  who,  had  he  been  present,  might  have  had  some 
thing  to  say — not  that  his  action  would  indicate  that 
he  despised  Mike  Murphy  the  less,  but  that  he  loved 
his  owners  more — was  unfortunately  down  in  the 
engine-room.  Consequently  he  failed  to  hear  the  shot, 
and  when  he  came  up  on  deck  the  victims  of  the  affray 
had  been  collected  and  taken  thence,  a  seaman  with  a 
mop  had  removed  the  profuse  evidence  which  Mike 
Murphy's  rich  red  blood  had  furnished  and  Mr. 
Schultz,  the  first  mate,  was  on  the  bridge,  while  Mr. 
Henckel  was  up  on  the  forecastle  head  with  his  gang, 
waiting  for  the  order  to  break  out  the  anchor. 

Presently  a  seaman  came  up  on  the  bridge  and  re 
ported  that  the  light  in  Mr.  Reardon's  state-room  had 
been  out  fifteen  minutes.  So  Mr.  Schultz  waited  an 
hour  longer  to  make  certain  the  chief  engineer  would 
be  asleep;  whereupon  commenced  a  harsh,  discordant 
tune — the  music  of  the  anchor  chain  paying  in  through 
the  hawse  pipe.  When  it  ceased  Mr.  Schultz  stepped 
to  the  marine  telegraph;  a  bell  jingled  in  the  bowels  of 
the  Narcissus;  an  instant  later  all  the  lights  aboard 
her  went  out  as  the  first  assistant  engineer  threw  off 
the  switch,  and  silently  in  the  heavy  velvet  gloom  the 
great  vessel  slipped  out  of  Pernambuco  harbor  and 
headed  south. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

Just  about  the  time  the  Narcissus  was  kicking  ahead 
at  nine  knots,  in  distant  San  Francisco  the  cable  com 
pany  was  getting  Mr.  Skinner  out  of  bed  to  dictate  to 
him  over  the  telephone  a  message  which  had  just  arrived 
from  Pernambuco. 

"Ah!"  murmured  the  incomparable  Skinner  as  he 
donned  a  dressing  gown  and  slippers  and  descended  to 
his  library  to  decode  the  cablegram.  "The  luck  of  the 
Blue  Star  flag  still  holds.  That  belligerent  and  highly 
intelligent  fellow  Murphy  has  received  our  cablegram, 
sent  him  in  care  of  the  American  consul,  and  in  ac 
cordance  with  my  instructions  he  is  acknowledging  its 
receipt.  Hum-m-m!  The  first  word  is  'oriana.*  Let 
me  turn  to  'oriana.'  Hum-m!  *I  have  an  order  pre 
sumably  emanating  from  blank.*  Ah,  yes,  the  next 
word  is  'Buestar,'  the  cable  address  of  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company.  Well,  well,  well,  the  foxy  fellow ! 
After  wiring  us  to  cable  him,  he  gets  our  cable  and 
then  cables  us  to  confirm  it !  Caution  is  a  virtue,  but 
this  brand  is  too  high-priced.  The  next  word  is 
'osculo'." 

Mr.  Skinner  turned  to  "osculo"  and  discovered  that 

it  meant  "I  am  ordered  to "    The  next  word  in  the 

cablegram  was  "Montevideo." 

"Good  heavens !"  Mr.  Skinner  gasped.     "He  has  re 
ceived  orders,  presumably  emanating  from  us,  ordering 

59 


60  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

him  to  Montevideo !  Can  it  be  possible  that  Mr.  Ricks 
or  Matt  Peasley  has  sent  him  a  cablegram  without  my 
knowledge?  I  must  read  further." 

He  did,  and  having  done  so  he  discovered  that,  in 
addition  to  being  ordered  to  Montevideo,  Mike  Murphy 
wanted  to  know  if  it  was  all  right  and  if  von  Staden 
and  Ulrich — presumably  German — were  to  be  trusted; 
that  he  would  remain  in  command  at  the  company's 
request,  although  he  considered  such  request  unreason 
able,  even  if  it  could  be  granted  without  risk.  Also,  he 
wanted  these  instructions  confirmed  and  was  anxiously 
awaiting  an  answer. 

"Well,  I'm  certain  of  one  thing,"  Mr.  Skinner  so 
liloquized  after  reading  this  extraordinary  message: 
"Murphy  has  not  been  to  the  American  consul's  office 
for  the  cablegram  I  sent  him  several  days  ago.  Evi 
dently  there  is  mischief  afoot.  However,  there  is  noth 
ing  to  be  gained  by  cabling  him  again  in  care  of  the 
American  consul,  so  I'll  just  assume  that  he  has  regis 
tered  his  cable  address  with  the  cable  company;  hence, 
if  I  cable  him  to  his  cable  address  the  message  will  be 
delivered  to  him  aboard  the  Narcissus.  And  since  he 
says  he  is  anxiously  awaiting  an  answer,  I'll  relieve  his 
anxiety  with  all  possible  speed  and  send  him  an  answer 
immediately." 

Whereupon  Mr.  Skinner  wasted  several  dollars 
cabling  Mike  Murphy  that  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
had  not,  to  his  knowledge,  cabled  him  any  instructions 
save  those  sent  in  care  of  the  American  consul;  that 
von  Staden  and  Ulrich  were  unknown  to  him,  and  to 
be  very  careful  not  to  lose  the  ship.  This  message 
Mr.  Skinner  dictated  over  the  telephone  to  the  tele 
graph  office  and  asked  them  to  rush  it.  Evidently  they 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  61 

did  so,  for  just  as  Gappy  Ricks  arrived  in  the  office  the 
following  morning,  word  was  received  from  the  tele 
graph  company  that  owing  to  the  departure  of  the 
Narcissus  from  Pernambuco  the  night  before,  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company's  cablegram  had  not  been 
delivered. 

"Well,  Skinner,"  Gappy  chirped  as  he  sat  in  at  his 
desk  and  lighted  a  cigar,  "what's  the  news  around  the 
shop  this  fine  morning?  Any  word  from  Murphy?" 

"Yes — and  no,"  Mr.  Skinner  replied,  and  laid  his 
information  before  Gappy  for  perusal.  Gappy  read  it 
all  twice,  then  slid  out  to  the  edge  of  his  chair,  placed 
his  hands  on  his  knees  and  looked  at  Mr.  Skinner  over 
the  rims  of  his  spectacles. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said  solemnly,  "this  is 
certainly  hell!  Cable  the  American  consul  in  Pernam 
buco  and  ask  him  if  Murphy  received  the  cablegram  we 
sent  in  care  of  the  consulate.  And,  in  the  meantime, 
don't  whisper  a  word  of  this  disquieting  information 
to  Matt  Peasley.  Time  enough  to  cross  a  bridge, 
Skinner,  when  you  come  to  it." 

Mr.  Skinner  promptly  filed  a  cablegram  to  the 
American  consul,  and  just  before  the  office  closed  they 
got  about  forty  dollars'  worth  of  reply,  informing 
them  that  Captain  Murphy  had  appeared  at  the  con 
sulate  greatly  excited  the  night  previous ;  that  he  had 
declared  the  cablegram  awaiting  him  might  mean  life 
or  death — certainly  a  large  sum  of  money;  that  he 
had  been  given  the  cablegram  and  had  gone  aboard 
ship  to  look  up  his  cipher  key.  He  had  not  returned 
and  the  ship  was  not  in  the  harbor. 

"Let  me  see  the  carbon  copy  of  the  cablegram  you 


62  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

sent  Murphy  in  care  of  the  American  consul,"  Gappy 
demanded.     Mr.  Skinner  with  a  sinking  heart  obeyed. 

"Skinner,"  said  Gappy,  "do  I  understand  you  sent 
this  message  in  cipher,  which  necessitated  on  the  part 
of  our  captain  a  trip  back  to  his  ship  before  he  could 
decipher  it?  Why  didn't  you  send  him  the  message 
in  regular  code?  He  would  then  have  decoded  it  right 
in  the  consulate,  or  at  best  he  could  have  gone  to  the 
cable  office  and  borrowed  a  code  book  from  them." 

"I  sent  it  in  our  secret  cipher,"  Mr.  Skinner  faltered. 
"It  was  delicate  business — quite — er — an  international 
complication,  as  it  were,  and  in  the  event  of  unpleasant 
developments — Well,  how  did  I  know  but  that  some 
German  might  be  on  the  key  at  the  cable  office  when 

the  message  arrived  there  for  Murphy— " 

"Quite  right,  Skinner,  my  boy,  quite  right,"  Gappy 
interrupted  sadly.  "The  only  trouble  with  you,  Skin 
ner,  is  that  you're  too  danged  efficient.  You  look  so 
far  into  the  future  you're  always  gumming  up  the 
present."  He  sighed. 

"Why,  what  do  you  think "  Skinner  began,  but 

Gappy  silenced  him  with  an  autocratic  finger. 

"I  do  not  think,  Skinner,  I  know.  Had  it  not  been 
for  your  damnable  cipher  message,  Murphy  would  have 
got  your  warning  ashore  instead  of  being  forced  to  go 
back  to  the  ship  for  it.  Having  got  it  ashore  he 
would  have  taken  care  to  warn  the  Brazilian  authorities 
and  they  would  have  been  on  watch  and  prevented  the 
ship  from  leaving.  As  I  view  the  situation,  Mike  went 
aboard,  deciphered  your  message  and  got  ripping  mad. 
Von  Staden  and  Ulrich  were  probably  aboard,  and  hot 
headed  Mike  probably  undertook  to  throw  them  over 
board  single-handed — and  failed.  His  body  is  doubt- 


^  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  63 

less  feeding  the  fishes  in  Pernambuco  harbor  this  min 
ute,  and  our  lovely — big — Narcissus — the  pride  of — 
the  Blue  Star  fleet " 

"Shall  I  tell  Captain  Peasley?"  Mr.  Skinner  faltered. 

"Yes,  tell  him.  He's  bound  to  find  out  sooner  or 
later.  Skinner,  I  could  stand  the  loss  of  the  ship,  but 
what  breaks  me  all  up  is  the  thought  that  after  forty 
years  of  honorable  business  my  friends  and  my  enemies 
might  suspect  me  of  being  a  filibuster.  I,  Alden  P. 
Ricks,  whose  great-grandfather  died  at  Yorktown, 
whose  grandfather  was  killed  at  Lundy's  Lane,  whose 
father  won  a  medal  of  honor  at  Chapultepec — I, 
Alden  P.  Ricks,  who  had  to  belong  to  the  Home  Guard 
because  I  was  such  a  little  runt  they  wouldn't  take  me 
in  the  Civil  War — to  think  that  I  should  attain  to 
seventy  years  and  even  be  suspected  of  staining  the  flag 
of  my  country  for  the  sake  of  a  few  dirty  dollars — 
after  all  the  Ricks  blood  that  has  been  shed  for  that 
flag!  Horrible!" 

Mr.  Skinner  turned  away  for,  man  and  boy,  he  had 
spent  twenty-five  years  under  Cappy  Ricks,  and  he 
loved  him.  He  could  not  bear  to  see  the  old  man  suffer. 


CHAPTER  IX 

When  Michael  J.  Murphy  returned  to  consciousness 
he  found  himself  in  his  berth,  although  for  all  the  effort 
he  made  to  verify  this  fact  it  might  have  been  Mr. 
Reardon's.  For  fully  half  an  hour  he  lay  there, 
gradually  straightening  out  the  tangle  in  his  intellect, 
and  presently  he  was  aware  that  the  back  of  his  head 
was  very  sore  and  ached,  so  he  put  up  his  hand  to  rub 
it  and  found  a  lump  as  large  as  a  walnut.  His  right 
shoulder  was  numb  and  he  was  unable  to  move  it, 
although  this  would  not  have  surprised  him  had  he 
been  aware  that  a  hundred  and  eighty  pounds  of  Teu 
tonic  masculinity  had  landed  on  that  shoulder  with 
both  feet  and  dislocated  it.  As  it  was,  the  skipper 
wondered  vaguely  if  the  ship's  funnel  had  fallen  over 
on  him.  His  right  side  ached  externally,  and  when 
he  sighed  it  ached  internally.  That  was  a  broken  rib 
tickling  his  lung,  for,  while  he  was  in  blissful  ignorance 
of  the  reason  therefor,  the  chronicler  of  this  tale  can 
serve  no  good  purpose  by  concealing  the  true  facts  in 
the  case.  Immediately  upon  regaining  consciousness, 
Herr  August  Carl  von  Staden  had  insisted  upon  re 
turning  Michael  J.  Murphy's  kicks  with  compound 
interest. 

"Holy  mackerel!"  the  skipper  murmured.  "I  feel 
like  I've  been  fed  into  a  concrete  mixer.  The  only 
injury  I  can  account  for  is  my  left  shoulder,  where 
that  supercargo  shot  me.'* 

64 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  65 

After  spending  another  half  hour  in  mild  specula 
tion  on  these  phenomena  he  was  aware  of  an  added 
impediment  in  breathing,  so  he  put  his  hand  up  to  his 
nose  and  found  it  clogged  with  blood.  His  luxuriant 
black  mustache  prevented  an  extended  examination  of 
his  upper  lip,  but  nevertheless,  something  told  him  it 
was  split.  A  hard  foreign  substance  lying  between  his 
right  cheek  and  the  inferior  maxillary  he  concluded 
must  be  the  pit  of  an  olive  left  over  from  dinner.  Sub 
sequently,  however,  he  discovered  it  was  one  of  his  own 
teeth.  So  he  swore  a  mighty  oath  and  felt  considerably 
better. 

"This  is  certainly  mutiny  on  the  high  seas  and  pun- 
ishable  by  hanging,"  he  soliloquized.  "I  wonder  if 
Gappy  Ricks  would  know  me  now ;"  and  he  reached  up 
to  turn  the  switch  of  the  electric  light  over  his  berth. 
He  turned  the  switch,  but  the  light  did  not  come  on, 
and  while  he  lay  considering  this  state  of  affairs,  he 
was  aware  that  something  that  was  not  his  head  was 
throbbing  in  the  ship.  He  decided  presently  that  it 
was  her  engines.  From  the  steady  rhythmic  pulsations 
he  realized  the  vessel  was  being  driven  full  speed  ahead ; 
and  since  he  could  not  recall  having  given  any  orders 
to  that  effect,  he  was  not  long  in  arriving  at  the  correct 
answer  to  the  riddle — whereupon  Michael  J.  Murphy 
did  what  every  shipmaster  does  when  he  loses  the  ship 
he  loves  and  finds  himself  ravished  of  his  reputation  as 
a  sane  and  careful  skipper.  He  wept! 

Those  who  know  the  breed  will  bid  you  beware  the 
Irish  when  they  weep  from  any  cause  save  grief  or 
sympathy. 


CHAPTER  X 

Gappy  Ricks,  who  claimed  to  know  Mike  Murphy's 
kind  of  Irish,  doubtless  would  have  been  extremely 
gratified  had  he  been  granted  a  peep  at  the  battered, 
bleeding,  weeping  wreck  of  his  faithful  Michael  as 
the  pride  of  the  Blue  Star  fleet  rolled  south  to  meet 
the  grey  sea  rovers  of  the  Fatherland  and  deliver 
the  cargo  of  coal  that  meant  so  much  to  them.  The 
sight  might  have  aroused  some  hope  in  Cappy's 
heavy  heart,  he  being  by  nature  inconsistent  and 
always  seeing  a  profit  where  others  found  naught  but 
a  deficit.  However,  though  Cappy  was  variously 
gifted  he  was  not  a  clairvoyant,  in  consequence  of 
which  he  spent  a  very  sleepless  night  following  the  re 
ceipt  of  that  windy  cablegram  from  the  American 
consul.  He  dined  at  his  club,  and  when  it  was  time 
for  him  to  leave  and  his  daughter  sent  her  car  for  him, 
he  lacked  the  courage  to  go  home  and  face  his  son- 
in-law.  So  he  spent  the  night  at  the  club  and  came 
down  to  the  office  about  noon,  hoping  Matt  Peasley 
would  have  recovered  from  the  shock  by  that  time. 
The  latter  was  waiting  for  him,  and  came  into  Cappy's 
sanctum  immediately  to  hold  a  post-mortem. 

"Matthew,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Cappy  miserably, 
"this  is  terrible." 

"I  think  we  should  take  the  matter  up  immediately 
with  the  State  Department,"  Matt  replied.  "There 
may  be  a  United  States  warship  in  those  waters,  and 

66 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  67 

she  could  be  instructed  by  wireless  to  endeavor  to 
intercept  the  Narcissus.  We  can  prove  a  clean  bill  of 
health  with  those  cablegrams,  and  get  back  our  ship." 

"Yes — from  our  own  Government,  of  course.  But, 
oh,  Matt,  if  old  Johnny  Bull  ever  gets  his  horns  into 
her  we  can  kiss  her  good-bye.  We  can't  bring  forward 
any  evidence  to  alibi  that  German  crew  on  a  ship  so 
far  off  her  course  and  loaded  with  contraband." 

"Well,  I  know  if  I  were  skippering  a  British  warship 
and  picked  up  the  Narcissus,  her  owners  would  find  I 
was  born  and  bred  in  Missouri,"  the  honest  Matt  ad 
mitted.  "By  the  way,  have  you  read  this  morning's 
papers  ?" 

"No,  Matt.  I've  felt  too  blamed  miserable  about 
this  Narcissus  affair." 

"Well,  the  Scharnhorst,  the  Gneisenau,  the  Leipzig, 
the  Dresden  and  the  Niirnberg  met  a  British  fleet  under 
Admiral  Craddock,  away  down  off  Coronel,  Chile.  The 
British  were  cleaned  for  fair." 

"You  don't  tell  me!" 

"I  do  tell  you.  And  I'll  bet  my  immortal  soul  that 
German  fleet  is  heading  for  the  entrance  to  Magellan 
this  minute.  If  I  were  a  religious  man  I'd  be  praying 
for  clear  weather  so  they'll  find  the  entrance  without 
any  trouble." 

"I  hope  they  run  ashore  and  drown  every  man 
Jack!"  cried  Cappy  fiercely. 

"I  do  not.  You  will  note  that  our  charterers  tried  to 
induce  Mike  to  go  to  Montevideo  for  orders.  That 
was  because  they  expected  to  lie  snug  at  Montevideo 
and  be  within  striking  distance  of  a  designated  meet 
ing  place  in  the  South  Atlantic  when  the  German  fleet 
should  pass  through  Magellan  from  the  Pacific.  Re- 


68  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

member  that  for  several  weeks  the  German  fleet  ha& 
managed  to  lose  itself  in  the  Pacific,  but  now  that  the 
British  fleet  has  stumbled  onto  it  and  forced  an  en 
gagement,  the  Australian  and  Japanese  cruisers  will 
all  be  headed  for  the  south  coast  of  Chile  to  make 
reprisal.  We  know  the  Germans  are  short  of  coal; 
doubtless  some  of  the  fleet  have  suffered  in  the  engage 
ment  with  Admiral  Craddock's  ships,  so  it's  a  safe  bet 
they'll  run  into  the  Atlantic  now  and  raid  the  Falkland 
Islands — by  the  way,  a  British  possession.  They  will 
hope  to  find  coal  and  stores  there,  which,  with  the  cargo 
of  the  Narcissus,  will  enable  them  to  continue  raiding. 

"Of  course  they  will  try  to  accomplish  this  before 
England  sends  a  fleet  to  avenge  Craddock — and  I'm 
hoping  the  Germans  will  succeed,  for,  if  they  do,  they 
will  surely  be  decent  enough  to  run  our  Narcissus  into 
some  South  American  port  and  give  us  an  opportunity 
to  get  her  back  again.  On  the  other  hand,  if  the  Ger 
mans  delay  their  departure  from  the  Pacific,  the  British 
will  surely  get  wind  of  the  Narcissus  waiting  at  Monte 
video  ;  and  when  she  comes  out  they'll  just  naturally 
grab  her." 

"I  guess  you're  right,"  Cappy  replied  gloomily;  "so 
for  the  present  we're  pro-German.  Still,  I  find  that 
a  hard  dose  to  swallow,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  our 
German  crew  in  the  Narcissus  has  evidently  taken  the 
vessel  away  from  Mike  Murphy." 

"I  am  sure  they  have  done  just  that,  sir;  otherwise 
Mike  would  have  obeyed  our  orders.  We  know  he 
received  the  orders;  hence  the  only  reason  he  did  not 
carry  them  out  was  because  he  wasn't  permitted  to  do 
so.  My  only  hope  is  that  they  haven't  killed  him,  for 
if  he  is  alive  and  free,  he  and  Reardon,  with  the  as- 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  69 

sistance  of  the  cockney  steward  and  the  two  Chinese 
cooks,  might " 

"Might  what?" 

"Might  steal  her  back  again." 

"Matt!     It  isn't  possible,  is  it?" 

"I'll  bet  Mike  Murphy  and  I  could  steal  her  back  if 
we  had  half  a  chance.  The  odds  would  be  forty  to  two 
against  our  succeeding,  but  a  little  strategy  is  some 
times  to  be  preferred  to  great  horsepower.  I  think  I 
could  do  it,  and  I  think  Murphy  will  do  it — if  he  only 
thinks  of  it." 

"How  ?    Tell  me  how  you'd  steal  her  back." 

"What's  the  use?"  Matt  replied  wearily.  "I'd  have 
to  have  help.  So  will  Mike — and  I've  just  remembered 
Mike  Murphy  and  Terence  Reardon  are  the  wrong 
kind  of  Irish  to  have  together  in  the  same  ship.  We 
did  our  best  to  prevent  it,  but  the  odds  are  too  long 
for  us ;  the  coal  is  for  the  Germans  and  we  hate  Eng 
land,  so  why  worry?  I  know  Mike  Murphy  will  not 
take  that  view  of  it ;  for  my  sake  he'll  fight  to  the  last 
gasp,  but  he  must  have  help,  and  Reardon  owes  me  no 
such  allegiance  as  Murphy." 

"Well,  he  owes  me  something,"  Cappy  spoke  up. 
"You  promised  him  a  hundred  and  seventy-five  dollars 
a  month  and  I  raised  the  ante  to  two  hundred.  It  was 
an  investment,  pure  and  simple.  I  was  buying  loyalty, 
and  by  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  I  think  I'll  get  it. 
Come  to  think  of  it,  there  was  a  look  in  Reardon's 
eyes  that  I  liked,  when  he  took  my  hand  in  those  greasy 
paws  of  his  and  said  he  was  a  proud  man  to  work  for 
me.  Matt,  that  fellow  is  full  of  bellicose  veins.  He 
may  not  fight  for  me,  but  he'll  fight  for  Mrs.  Reardon 
and  the  children  and  that  two-hundred-dollar-a-month 


70  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

job,  for  it's  the  first  he's  ever  had  and  if  he  loses  out 
it'll  be  the  last  he'll  ever  get.  He  was  telling  me  all 
about  his  family  and  how  much  the  job  meant  to  him, 
that  day  we  had  the  Narcissus  out  on  her  trial  trip." 

Matt  Peasley's  face  brightened.  "By  Jupiter,  that 
puts  a  different  face  on  the  situation.  If  Reardon  is 
alive  they  might  get  together  for  mutual  protection." 

"Well,"  Cappy  piped  up,  greatly  relieved  to  discover 
Matt  was  facing  the  tragedy  so  optimistically,  "we 
might  do  worse  than  hope.  Wire  the  State  Depart 
ment,  Matt ;  and  in  the  meanwhile,  cheer  up,  sonny,  and 
trust  in  the  luck  of  Alden  P.  Ricks.  I  remember  Cap 
tain  Noah  Kendall — peace  to  his  ashes — used  to  say 
to  me:  'Mr.  Ricks,  if  you  ever  fell  into  Channel  Creek 
at  low  tide  you'd  come  up  with  a  pearl  necklace 
wrapped  round  your  ankle,  and  you'd  be  smelling  like 
a  spray  of  lemon  verbena.'  Cheer  up,  Matt!  What 
though  the  cause  be  lost,  the  Narcissus  is  not  lost — 
yet.  The  Celtic  troops  remain,  and  from  now  on  my 
war  cry  is  going  to  be " 

"Ireland  liber  Alles,"  Matt  Peasley  suggested. 

"You're  blamed  whistlin' !"  said  Cappy  Ricks. 

So  Mr.  Skinner  was  called  into  consultation,  and  he 
and  Matt  Peasley  and  Cappy  drew  up  a  heart-rending 
telegram  to  the  Secretary  of  State,  who  consulted  with 
the  Secretary  of  the  Navy,  who  wired  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  that  he  was  sorry  but  he  didn't 
have  as  much  as  a  rowboat  in  the  South  Atlantic  to 
save  their  steamer  Narcissus,  and  would  they  please 
keep  still  about  it,  since  a  noise  like  that,  unless  abso 
lutely  based  on  facts — and  he  understood  their  wail  to 
be  based  on  suspicion — would  tend  to  create  additional 
friction  in  an  international  complication  already 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  71 

strained  to  the  breaking  point.  Whereupon  Cappy 
Ricks  flew  into  a  rage  and  immediately  dictated  a  long 
letter  to  his  congressman  and  his  senator,  urging  them 
to  battle  to  the  last  trench  in  the  campaign  for  a 
two-power  navy. 

Time  passed.  Then  suddenly  the  world  rocked  with 
the  news  of  the  annihilation  of  the  German  Pacific  fleet 
off  the  Falkland  Islands.  Cappy  Ricks  and  Matt 
Peasley  read  the  horrid  tale  in  the  morning  papers  as 
they  sat  at  breakfast,  and  immediately  both  lost  all 
interest  in  food.  Like  two  mourners  about  to  set  out 
for  the  morgue  to  identify  the  corpse  of  a  loved  one 
recently  killed  by  a  taxicab,  they  drove  down  to  the 
Blue  Star  offices,  where  immediately  upon  arrival  some 
thing  terrible  in  Mr.  Skinner's  face  brought  on  palpi 
tation  of  Cappy  Ricks'  heart. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  chattered,  "Have  you 
any  news?" 

"Not  yet,  sir,"  murmured  Mr.  Skinner  brokenly, 
"but  soon !  The  British  consul  wants  you  to  ring  him 
up.  He  says  he's  had  a  wireless  from  H.M.S.  Panther, 
off  the  Falkland  Islands,  and  he  thinks  it  will  be  of 
interest  to  you." 

"Is  my  Narcissus  confiscated?"  Cappy  and  Matt 
cried  in  chorus. 

"I— I  don't  know,"  Skinner  faltered.  "I  just  didn't 
have  the  courage  to  pursue  the  matter  further.  The  Brit 
ish  consul  said  she  was  captured  but  as  for  con " 

"Idiot !  Bonehead !"  rasped  Cappy.  "My  Narcissiis 
is  gone — gone!  Oh,  Lord!  Matt,  you  ring  up  the 
British  consul — I'm  an  old  man — Skinner,  my  dear 
chap,  forgive  my  harsh  language.  Have  you  a  little 
drop  of  whisky  in  the  office?" 


CHAPTER  XI 

Capt.  Michael  J.  Murphy's  futile  tears  of  rage  hav 
ing  dried  almost  as  quickly  as  they  came,  he  crawled 
painfully  out  of  his  berth  and  lighted  a  match,  to  dis 
cover  he  was  a  prisoner  in  his  own  state-room.  He 
turned  another  electric  switch,  but  still  the  room  re 
mained  in  darkness. 

"Sneaking  out  of  Pernambuco  with  the  lights 
doused,"  he  soliloquized.  Then  he  remembered  a  little 
stump  of  candle  he  kept  in  his  desk  for  use  when  heat 
ing  sealing  wax,  so  he  lighted  the  candle  and  by  its 
meager  rays  took  inventory  of  his  features  in  the  little 
mirror  over  his  washstand. 

"By  the  Toe  Nails  of  Moses,"  he  soliloquized,  "some 
body's  sea-boots  did  that,  and  if  I  ever  find  out  who 
was  wearing  them  at  the  time  there'll  be  a  fight  or  a 
footrace.  I'm  a  total  wreck  and  no  insurance — yes, 
thank  God !  here's  the  ship's  medicine  chest." 

Having  spent  the  greater  portion  of  an  adventurous 
career  far  from  medical  aid  in  time  of  bodily  stress, 
Michael  J.  was,  as  most  shipmasters  are,  rather  adept 
in  rough-and-tumble  surgery.  His  compact  little 
library  contained  a  common-sense  treatise  on  the  care 
of  burns,  scalds,  cuts,  fractures  and  the  few  minor 
physical  diseases  that  sailors  are  heir  to,  and  in  ac 
cordance  with  immemorial  custom  he,  as  master  of 
the  ship,  was  the  custodian  of  the  medicine  chest.  So 
he  washed  the  gore  from  his  face,  disinfected  his  split 

72 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  73 

lip  and  patched  himself  up  after  a  fashion.  The  bullet 
wound  in  his  left  shoulder  proved  to  be  a  flesh  wound, 
high  up,  so  he  cleaned  that  and  decided  his  left  wing 
would  be  in  fair  fighting  order  within  a  few  days. 
Then  he  undressed  and  said  his  prayers,  with  a  special 
invocation  for  help  from  his  patron  saint,  holy  Saint 
Michael,  the  archangel.  Evidently  Saint  Michael  in 
clined  a  friendly  ear,  for  it  is  a  curious  fact  that  no 
sooner  had  his  namesake  risen  from  his  marrow  bones 
than  a  curious  sense  of  peace  and  comfort  stole  over 
him.  As  in  a  vision  he  saw  Herr  August  Carl  von 
Staden  standing  on  the  bridge,  bound  at  ankle,  knee 
and  hand  and  with  a  rope  round  his  neck.  From  the 
supercargo's  neck  the  rope  led  aloft  through  a  small 
snatch-block  fastened  to  the  end  of  a  cargo  derrick 
and  thence  to  the  drum  of  the  forward  winch — a 
device  which  had  been  known  to  hoist  with  a  jerk  ob 
jects  several  tons  heavier  than  Herr  August  Carl  von 
Staden!  This  picture  thus  conjured  in  Murphy's 
imagination  was  so  real  he  was  almost  tempted  to  recite 
the  litany  for  the  dying ! 

"  'Twould  have  been  better  for  them  had  they  killed 
me  dead  and  hove  my  carcass  overboard,"  he  decided. 
"The  fact  that  they  didn't,  but  took  the  trouble  to 
carry  me  to  my  own  bed  and  lock  me  in,  is  proof  that 
they'll  not  murder  me  now — so  I'll  not  worry.  I'll 
have  every  beer-drinking,  sausage-making  son  of  a  sea- 
cook  begging  me  for  mercy  before  the  week  is  out. 
I'll  just  lie  low  and  rest  up  a  bit,  and  by  the  time  we're 
off  Rio  I'll  drop  on  them  like  a  top-mast  in  a  typhoon. 
Then  with  the  help  of  the  two  Chinamen,  the  steward 
and  Reardon  'twill  not  be  hard  to  run  her  into  Rio. 
I  wonder  if  that  pirate  frisked  me  of  my  five  thou- 


74  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

sand."  He  searched  through  his  clothing  and  was 
amazed  to  discover  that  the  bills  were  still  in  his  posses 
sion. 

"I'll  give  them  back  in  the  morning,"  he  concluded. 
"I  had  a  pistol  in  the  drawer  of  my  desk  and  a  rifle  in 
that  locker;"  and  in  the  wild  hope  that  his  luck  still 
held,  he  searched  eagerly  for  both.  They  were  gone. 

Nevertheless,  Michael  J.  Murphy  smiled  as  he 
wrapped  a  wet  towel  round  his  throbbing  head,  for  he 
had  already  decided  upon  his  plan  of  campaign  for 
regaining  command  of  his  ship,  a  coup  for  which  he 
required  no  weapon  more  formidable  than  his  native 
intelligence.  As  he  sank  groaning  into  the  arms  of 
Morpheus,  however,  even  a  Digger  Indian  would  have 
realized  that  for  the  next  two  weeks  the  master  of 
the  Narcissus  would  be  unable  to  defend  himself  against 
an  old  lady  armed  with  a  slipper.  Nevertheless,  the 
indomitable  fellow,  with  the  amazing  optimism  of  his 
race,  had  already  decided  to  attack  and  subdue,  within 
four  days,  thirty-six  husky  male  enemies ;  which  lends 
some  color  to  the  oft-repeated  declaration  that  an 
Irishman  fights  best  when  he  is  on  his  back  with  his 
opponent  feeling  for  his  windpipe. 

When  Michael  J.  Murphy  awoke  it  was  broad  day 
light  and  Herr  August  Carl  von  Staden  was  standing 
over  him.  The  supercargo  was  clad  in  an  immaculate 
suit  of  white  flannels  and  was  looking  as  fresh  as  new 
paint. 

"Can  it  be  possible?"  Murphy  queried  in  amazement. 
"Upon  my  word,  friend  pirate,  I  had  flattered  myself 
I'd  tucked  you  away  for  a  couple  of  days  at  least." 

"The  excellent  Mr.  Henckel  tells  me  I  was  out  for  ten 
minutes  from  that  solar-plexus  blow  you  landed,"  Mr. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  75 

von  Staden  replied  in  tones  of  mingled  admiration  and 
friendliness.  "And  of  course  you  cannot  see  how  sore 
my  ribs  feel.  I  take  it  rather  ill  of  you  to  have  kicked 
me." 

"Kicked  you !  I  wish  I'd  killed  you !  And,  speaking 
of  kicks,  somebody  certainly  kicked  me.  Who  was  it?" 

"Upon  recovering  consciousness,"  the  supercargo 
replied  with  some  embarrassment,  "I  was  overcome  with 
fury.  You  were  lying  on  the  floor  of  your  stateroom, 
where  Mr.  Schultz  and  Mr.  Henckel  had  hurriedly 
tossed  you — so  I  came  in  and  kicked  you." 

"I  never  kicked  you  in  the  face,"  Murphy  com 
plained. 

"No,  but  you  flattened  my  nose  with  your  code 
book." 

"Well,  I'll  admit  a  good  smack  on  the  nose  does  make 
a  man  mad.  But  you  shot  me  in  the  shoulder.  By 
the  way,  do  your  lungs  hurt  when  you  breathe, 
Dutchy?" 

"No.    Do  yours?" 

"A  slight  tickle.  I  think  you  caved  in  my  super 
structure.  Who  jumped  on  me  from  the  top  of  the 
house?" 

"The  second  mate." 

"He  dislocated  my  shoulder.  I  can  wiggle  my  fin 
gers,  so  I  know  it  isn't  a  fracture.  Suppose  you  take 
off  your  shoe,  sit  at  the  foot  of  my  bed,  put  your  foot 
under  my  right  armpit  and  press,  and  at  the  same 
time  pull  on  my  right  arm." 

"Delighted,  I'm  sure,"  declared  Herr  von  Staden  in 
his  charming  Oxford  accent,  and  forthwith  snapped 
Michael  J.  Murphy's  shoulder  into  place  with  great 
dexteritv. 


76  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Thank  you,"  the  skipper  answered,  and  wiped  the 
beads  of  agony  from  his  white  face.  "If  you'll  frisk 
my  trousers  over  there  on  the  settee  you'll  find  the  five 
thousand  dollars  you  gave  me  to  sell  out  my  owners. 
I  don't  want  it.  I  never  intended  to  keep  it.  I  was 
suspicious  of  you  and  your  confounded  cablegrams, 
and  I  had  to  have  a  reasonable  excuse  to  go  ashore  and 
cable  my  owners  for  confirmation.  The  bribe  furnished 
that  excuse.  I  suppose  you  thought  I'd  fallen  for  your 
game." 

"I  must  confess  your  attitude  completely  deceived 
me." 

"Thanks  for  the  compliment.  And  now,  if  you  don't 
mind,  suppose  you  tell  me  something :  Was  it  a  German 
agent  who  put  the  bug  in  my  ear  about  hiring  the  crew 
of  that  interned  German  liner  in  San  Francisco?" 

"I  greatly  fear  it  was,"  von  Staden  answered  smil 
ingly.  "There  is  an  old  man  who  presides  over  the 
destinies  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company " 

"You  mean  Cappy  Ricks?" 

"I  believe  that  is  the  name.  He  has  a  reputation  for 
being  at  once  the  most  reckless  spendthrift  and  the 
most  painstaking  money  saver  in  the  world.  He  is 
always  preaching  economy " 

"And  well  I  know  it.  If  he  hadn't  preached  it,  Cap 
tain  Peasley  would  never  have  stood  for  this  rabble 
your  friends  wished  on  me." 

The  supercargo  chuckled.  "We  wanted  the  largest 
vessel  we  could  find,"  he  explained;  "and  when  it  was 
reported  to  us  that  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany's  Narcissus  was  going  from  San  Francisco  to 
the  West  Coast  and  thence  to  New  York  with  nitrate, 
we  decided  to  get  her.  We  investigated  you.  Your 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  77 

name  is  Michael  J.  Murphy;  naturally  we  knew  you 
were  Irish ;  and  the  Irish — your  kind  of  Irish — are  not 
sympathetic  toward  the  cause  of  Merry  England.  The 
same  held  true  of  your  chief  engineer,  Mr.  Reardon. 
We  knew  of  the  passion  of  this  interesting  person, 
Cappy  Ricks,  for  cutting  down  expenses.  We  knew 
you  and  Reardon  were  new  to  your  jobs  and  would 
be  likely  to  consider  any  reasonable  plan  for  eliminat 
ing  expense  in  your  respective  departments,  in  the 
hope  of  pleasing  your  employer.  So  the  suggestion 
that  you  ship  our  people  was  made  to  you  and  Rear 
don,  and  you  accepted  it  with  alacrity.  The  rest  was 
very  easy.  We  got  in  touch  with  your  New  York 
agents  through  some  friends  of  ours  in  very  good 
standing  there,  and  they  were  enabled  to  charter  the 
ship  merely  by  offering  an  extraordinary  freight  rate. 
They  purchased  the  cargo  of  coal  and  sold  it  to  us  at 
a  nice  profit,  and  we  depended  on  your  national  ani 
mosity  and  racial  sympathy,  seasoned  with  a  liberal 
cash  subsidy,  to  enable  us  to  deliver  it.  We  preferred 
to  do  the  decent  thing,  but  in  the  event  that  you 
proved  unreasonable,  we  concluded  it  would  be  wise  to 
have  our  own  people  aboard  and  take  the  vessel  away 
from  you.  I  admit  we  tried  to  trick  you  with  the 
cablegrams.  Why  attempt  to  conceal  the  fact  now? 
That  was  unsportsmanlike.  However,  if  the  fat  is  in 
the  fire,  as  you  Americans  would  say,  you  have  put  it 
there  by  forcing  my  hand." 

"Very  cleverly  done,"  quoth  Michael  J.  Murphy. 
"I  always  admire  brains  wherever  I  find  them." 

"Men  in  my  line  of  endeavor  are  trained  to  provide 
for  all  conceivable  emergencies,  captain.  I  think  I 
provided  for  all  of  them  in  the  case  under  discussion. 


\ 


78  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Who,  for  instance,  would  conceive  that  you  would 
have  taken  the  trouble  to  call  upon  the  American  con 
sul  for  the  cipher  message  that  has  caused  all  this 
unpleasant  row  and  facial  disfigurement?" 

"You  have  read  the  translation,  of  course?'* 

"Naturally." 

"It  is  self-explanatory.  You  intend  delivering  my 
cargo  somewhere  off  the  south  coast  of  Uruguay.  May 
I  be  pardoned  for  expressing  some  curiosity  as  to  your 
plans  thereafter,  my  piratical  friend?" 

"Please  do  not  call  me  your  piratical  friend." 

"Well,  you're  a  pirate,  aren't  you?" 

"Legally — yes.  Morally — no.  In  times  of  national 
necessity  one's  patriotism — one's  duty  to  one's  coun 
try — excuses,  in  the  minds  of  all  fair  men,  the  com 
mission  of  acts  which  ordinarily  would  bring  about 
the  deepest  condemnation.  I  assure  you  that  if  we 
had  had  the  faintest  hope  of  doing  business  in  a  busi 
nesslike  way  with  your  owners,  we  should  have  been 
happy  to  pay  almost  any  price  for  their  ship,  for  she 
carries  ten  thousand  tons  of  coal ;  and  you  surely  must 
realize,  Captain  Murphy,  how  limited  is  the  number  of 
ships  suitable  for  our  purpose  under  the  American 
flag.  We  were  desperate " 

"I  believe  Bethmann-Hollweg  said  something  of  the 
same  nature  with  regard  to  Belgium,"  Murphy  replied 
blandly.  "A  nation  fighting  for  its  life  is  a  law  unto 
itself,  eh?" 

"Self-preservation  is  the  first  law  of  human  nature," 
the  supercargo  replied. 

"All  right.  Then  we  understand  each  other.  While 
I  decline  to  terminate  the  war  between  August  Carl 
von  Staden  and  Michael  Joseph  Murphy,  nevertheless 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  7 

under  the  law  you  have  just  cited  I  believe  I'm  entitled 
to  breakfast.  I'm  starved.  I  figured  on  having  supper 
ashore  lasjb  night,  but  after  I  received  that  cablegram 
from  my  owners  I  forgot  all  about  food.  Now  I'm  re 
membering.  I  wish  you'd  send  the  steward  in  with 
about  forty  dollars'  worth  of  spoon  victuals.  My 
grinders  are  very  loose." 

"Captain  Murphy,"  his  jailer  declared,  "do  you 
know  you  are  a  very  wronderful  man?" 

"All  the  Murphy s  are.  It  runs  in  the  blood,  like  a 
wooden  leg." 

"I  really  regret  that  you  are  such  a  wonderful  man. 
If  you  were  not  I'd  give  you  the  liberty  of  the  ship. 
As  it  is,  I  crave  your  pardon  for  keeping  you  a  prisoner 
in  your  state-room.  The  exigencies  of  war,  you  know." 

"Don't  mention  it,  Dutchy.  For  the  second  time  I 
ask  you:  When  you  have  delivered  this  cargo  of  coal, 
what  do  you  intend  to  do  with  my  ship?" 

"We  will,  in  all  probability,  give  you  a  new  crew, 
and  the  present  crew  of  the  Narcissus  will  go  aboard 
one  of  our  warships  and  thus  remove  themselves  from 
the  reach  of  a  possible  indictment  for  piracy  and 
mutiny  on  the  high  seas." 

"Where  will  you  get  a  new  crew  for  me?" 

"Our  fleet  has  sunk  a  few  British  tramps  in  mid- 
ocean  during  the  past  sixty  days.  Naturally  they  re 
moved  the  crews  first.  These  prisoners  are  in  our 
way,  and  the  admiral  will  welcome  an  opportunity  to 
load  them  all  aboard  the  empty  Narcissus,  for  even 
prisoners  of  war  must  eat,  and  the  stores  aboard  our 
fleet  are  more  valuable  than  these  captured  seamen. 
In  obedience  to  that  first  law  of  human  nature  they 


80  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

will  not  object  to  working  the  Narcissus  into  the 
nearest  South  American  port." 

"Well,  that's  comforting ;  but  for  heaven's  sake  don't 
be  too  much  of  a  hog  with  my  cargo.  Leave  me  enough 
of  it  to  carry  my  ship  to  the  nearest  port.  She  burns 
about  thirty-five  tons  a  day — you  might  get  the  statis 
tics  from  Reardon." 

"By  all  means,  captain.  Our  capture  of  the  Nar 
cissus  is  merely  a  deplorable  national  necessity.  We 
would  not  lose  her  for  you  for  anything." 

"How  about  a  British  cruiser  picking  her  up  before 
we  make  connections  with  your  fleet?" 

Herr  von  Staden  shrugged.  "That,"  he  replied, 
"would  be  the  fortune  of  war." 

"It  would  look  like  the  picture  of  misfortune  to  me. 
And  how  about  the  freight  on  this  cargo  you've  stolen  ? 
Don't  my  owners  get  something  out  of  this  deal  to 
help  pay  expenses?  You're  going  to  play  as  fair  as 
you  can  with  me,  aren't  you,  Dutchy?" 

"By  all  means.  However,  you  are  evidently  in  doubt 
as  to  the  real  situation.  Your  charterers  are  respon 
sible  to  your  owners  for  the  freight  money.  If  they 
do  not  pay  it  Mr.  Gappy  Ricks  can  sue  them.  As 
for  the  cargo,  we  have  not  stolen  it,  since  one  cannot 
steal  that  which  one  owns.  We  paid  cash  for  this  cargo 
before  you  cleared  from  Norfolk,  for  our  go-between 
would  take  no  risks  whatsoever." 

"I  see.  Well,  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  grin  and  bear  it. 
By  the  way,  don't  forget  to  take  back  your  blood 
money.  It's  in  my  trousers  pocket." 

Von  Staden  was  genuinely  distressed.  "Are  you 
quite  certain  you  want  me  to  do  that?"  he  queried. 
"Five  thousand  dollars  is  quite  a  sum  for  a  poor  sea 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  81 

captain  to  toss  aside  so  contemptuously.  Why  not  ac 
cept  it  as  compensation  for  that  broken  rib,  and  that 
bullet  I  put  through  your  left  shoulder,  the  dislocated 
right  shoulder,  the  loose  teeth  and  the  split  lip?  In 
fact,  I  am  so  certain  five  thousand  dollars  will  not  cover 
your  personal  injuries  I  am  willing  to  be  a  sport  and 
add  something  to  the  sum." 

Michael  J.  Murphy  grinned — rather  a  horrible  grin 
it  was,  owing  to  his  swollen  lip  and  jaw. 

"Dutchy,"  he  said,  "listen  to  me:  All  the  money  in 
the  world  couldn't  make  me  be  untrue  to  my  salt.  And 
if  you  have  any  lingering  notion  that  I'm  not  going  to 
collect  a  million  dollars'  worth  of  satisfaction  for  the 
way  -you've  acted  aboard  my  ship,  I  can  only  say 
that  as  a  fortune-teller  you'll  never  earn  enough  money 
to  keep  yourself  in  cigarettes.  You  say  you  have  been 
trained  to  provide  for  all  conceivable  emergencies,  so 
I'm  advising  you,  as  a  friend,  to  brace  yourself  for 
the  surprise  of  your  life  before  you're  a  week  older. 
Have  you  pondered  the  possibility  of  sudden  death 
aboard  the  S.S.  Narcissus?" 

"Certainly.  Should  we  be  overhauled  by  a  British 
cruiser  I  should  take  a  short  cut  to  eternity.  One 
naturally  dislikes  the  thought  of  being  hanged  for  a 
pirate.  It  would  be  a  reflection  on  one's  family.  As 
for  sudden  death  by  violence  at  the  hands  of  any  mem 
ber  of  the  crew  of  this  steamship,  I  should  be  willing  to 
risk  quite  a  sum  of  money  that  no  such  tragedy  will  be 
enacted." 

"Just  why?" 

"Well,  you'll  be  safe  in  this  stateroom  until  I  am 
ready  to  turn  your  command  back  to  you,  and  a  man 
with  two  shoulders  in  the  condition  of  yours  is  hardly 


82  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

likely  to  try  battering  down  this  stout  state-room 
door." 

"Correct.  And  I'm  a  trifle  too  thick  in  the  middle  to 
think  of  crawling  through  the  state-room  window." 

"And  if,"  the  supercargo  continued,  "you  have  any 
idea  of  calling  the  engine-room  on  that  speaking  tube 
and  soliciting  aid  from  Mr.  Reardon,  please  be  advised 
that  for  the  present  Mr.  Reardon  has  been  relieved 
from  duty  in  the  engine-room." 

"So  you've  got  Reardon  locked  up,  too?"  Murphy 
queried.  "Well !  Well !  I'd  hate  to  think  of  being  locked 
up  and  that  man  Reardon  free.  However,  you  need  not 
have  worried.  I'd  die  before  I'd  ask  that  fellow  for 
help — and  he'd  die  before  he'd  give  it." 

"So  I  understand  from  the  first  mate.  However,  I 
thought  it  prudent  to  guard  against  a  temporary  truce 
and  an  alliance  for  the  common  interest." 

"Dutchy,"  said  the  skipper,  "you're  pretty  smart." 

Von  Staden  smiled  most  companionably.  "I  also 
took  the  precaution  to  remove  some  weapons  from 
your  apartment." 

"Take  anything  from  me,  Dutchy,  except  my  honor, 
my  pipe  and  tobacco,  and  my  ship.  Take  any  one  of 
those  four,  however,  and  may  the  Lord  have  mearcy  on 
your  soul.  Please  hand  me  that  book  entitled  Back- 
wood's  Surgery  till  I  see  what's  good  for  a  broken  rib ; 
then  send  the  steward  for  my  breakfast  order.  After 
that — well,  after  that  you  might  make  your  will, 
Dutchy." 

"I  did  that  in  Pernambuco,"  the  delightful  Herr  von 
Staden  replied,  "so  your  advice  is  wasted." 

He  handed  the  skipper  the  book  on  surgery  and  went 
out,  carefully  locking  the  door  behind  him.  He  returned 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  83 

presently  and  stood  beside  the  steward,  who  thrust  his 
head  through  the  state-room  window  and  desired  to 
know  the  captain's  choice  of  breakfast. 

"A  bowl  of  mush  and  milk,  three  soft-boiled  eggs  and 
a  pot  of  coffee.  No  toast.  Hurry!" 

When  the  steward  returned  with  the  order  he  was 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Schultz,  the  first  mate.  The  sight 
of  the  traitor  threw  Mike  into  a  furious  rage. 

"Mr.  Schultz,"  he  said  ominously,  "the  things  I'm 
going  to  do  to  you  would  make  the  devil  blush." 

"So?"  Mr.  Schultz  replied  soothingly. 

"I'm  going  to  hang  von  Staden.  He's  a  pirate, 
and  the  rule  of  the  Seven  Seas  is  that  a  skipper  hangs 
a  pirate  whenever  he  can  lay  hands  on  him.  And  you 
know  me,  Mr.  Schultz.  I'm  a  devil  for  etiquette  aboard 
ship.  As  for  you,  you're  only  guilty  of  mutiny,  so  I'll 
content  myself  with  tricing  you  up  to  the  shrouds  and 
flogging  you  with  a  cat  soaked  in  brine." 

And  so  on,  ad  libitum,  ad  infinitum. 

Mr.  Schultz  was  frankly  mystified.  Being  a  German, 
he  did  not  understand  the  Irish,  although  in  view  of  the 
fact  that  during  the  war  he  had  room  in  his  head  for 
but  one  thing — the  Fatherland — perhaps  the  skipper 
might  have  pardoned  his  mate  the  glance  of  contempt 
and  utter  disgust  which  the  latter  now  bent  upon  him. 
Here  was  a  man,  Mr.  Schultz  told  himself,  who,  having 
stipulated  his  price  and  struck  a  bargain,  had  demon 
strated  beyond  cavil  that  he  was  not  a  gentleman,  for 
he  had  refused  to  stay  bought.  More,  he  had  basely 
attacked  his  benefactor. 

"So?"  he  repeated. 

"Out,  you  blackguard,  and  leave  me  alone !"  Murphy 
yelled. 


84  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"It  iss  an  order  dot  I  stay  und  see  dot  der  steward 
shall  mayg  no  conversations  vatsoefer,"  Mr.  Schultz 
declared  firmly. 

"Verboten,  eh?"  sneered  the  skipper.  He  had  once 
been  to  Hamburg,  and  naturally  he  had  acquired  the 
word  most  commonly  used  in  the  German  language. 

"Ja,"  Mr.  Schultz  replied  placidly,  but  with  an  air 
of  finality  that  left  no  room  for  further  argument. 


CHAPTER  XII 

In  the  course  of  the  afternoon,  having1  chewed  the 
bitter  cud  of  reflection  and  reviewed  his  situation  from 
every  possible  angle,  Mike  Murphy  came  to  the 
conclusion  that,  for  all  Terence  Reardon's  religious 
backsliding,  he  might  be  fairly  honest  in  money  matters 
and  possessed  of  a  sense  of  loyalty  where  his  owners'  in 
terests  were  concerned.  Also,  having  found  Herr  von 
Staden  bluffing  in  one  instance  it  occurred  to  the  cap 
tain  he  might  be  discovered  bluffing  in  another — so  he 
resolved  to  investigate.  Accordingly  at  an  hour  when 
he  knew  Terence  should  be  in  the  engine  room  he  took 
up  the  speaking-tube  at  the  head  of  his  bed  and  blew 
into  it.  But  no  shrill  whistle  signalled  his  desire  in 
the  engine  room,  and  though  Michael  blew  until  he 
was  red  in  the  face  and  his  lips  hurt  him  cruelly,  reluct 
antly  he  came  to  the  conclusion  that  Herr  August  Carl 
von  Staden  had  the  situation  very  well  in  hand  and 
Terence  Reardon  in  the  latter's  state-room  under  lock 
and  key. 

He  was  right  in  one  particular:  von  Staden  had  the 
situation  very  well  in  hand,  but  he  did  not  have  Terence 
Reardon  under  lock  and  key.  Murphy  had  been  balked 
in  making  connections  with  the  unsuspecting  Terence 
for  the  reason  that  a  little  ball  of  cotton  waste  had  very 
carefully  been  tucked  into  the  engine-room  howler  a  few 
inches  at  the  back  of  the  whistle  at  the  chief's  end  of 
the  tube.  Hence,  in  the  event  that  one  sought  to  whistle 

85 


\ 


86  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

up  the  other,  he  merely  wasted  his  breath.  Having 
learned,  on  the  very  excellent  authority  of  both  men  in 
the  case,  that  they  despised  each  other  and  were  not 
on  speaking  terms,  von  Staden  decided  that  the  chance 
of  Terence  Reardon's  listening  to  Michael  J.  Murphy's 
tale  of  piracy  and  mutiny  was  so  vague  as  to  be  almost 
negligible.  However,  he  was  painstaking  and  careful 
in  all  things  and  never  ran  any  unnecessary  risks ;  con 
sequently,  just  to  be  on  the  safe  side,  he  had  instructed 
the  first  assistant  to  plug  the  speaking-tube  leading  to 
the  skipper's  room.  And  in  order  to  discourage  the 
captain  from  seeking  an  interview  with  the  chief, 
von  Staden  had  told  the  former  that  the  chief  was 
a  prisoner. 

Mr.  Reardon  was  too  important  a  personage  to  be 
deprived  of  his  liberty  when  nothing  was  to  be  gained 
by  such  action.  If  he  could  be  kept  in  ignorance  of 
the  state  of  affairs  aboard  the  Narcissus,  he  would  con 
tinue  to  attend  to  business ;  if  the  worst  came  to  the 
worst  his  friendship  would  be  a  better  asset  than  his 
hatred.  If  he  grew  suspicious  and  demanded  a  show 
down,  Herr  von  Staden  would  give  it  to  him  without 
reservation  and  stuff  his  mouth  with  gold ;  then,  if  the 
chief  declined  to  listen  to  reason,  it  would  be  time 
enough  to  lock  him  up.  While  the  supercargo  would 
not  hesitate  to  sacrifice  his  life,  his  liberty,  or  his 
honor  for  his  country,  he  was  nevertheless  desirous  of 
being  a  gentleman  if  accorded  the  opportunity.  And 
it  must  be  admitted  he  had  found  Mr.  Reardon  amusing 
and  vastly  entertaining,  for  the  very  first  night  aboard, 
after  Mr.  Schultz  had  introduced  him  to  the  chief  and 
he  had  presented  the  latter  with  a  good  cigar,  Mr. 
Reardon,  under  the  spell  of  the  witchery  cast  by  the 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  8T 

sea  and  the  night,  had  sat  on  deck  and  told  the  German 
wonderful  tales  of  the  fairies  in  Ireland — this  while 
the  skipper  was  ashore.  In  particular  he  told  von 
Staden  the  tale  of  the  fairy  queen  with  the  iron  hand. 
"Her  hand,"  said  Terence,  "was  as  beautiful  as  ye'd 
find  in  a  day's  thravel,  an'  'twas  herself  that'd  dhrive 
men  crazy  afther  wan  look  at  her.  An'  she  was  good 
to  the  poor,  but  divil  a  bit  av  love  did  she  have  for  a 
redcoat.  Whin  she'd  take  human  form  an'  a  bowld 
buck  av  a  British  dragoon  would  come  making  love  to 
her,  'tis  hrfself  would  say  to  him:  '  Captain,  alannah, 
would  ye  oblige  me  wit'  a  dhrink  av  wather?'  An' 
whin  he  turrned  to  dhraw  the  wather,  she'd  breathe  on 
her  hand — like  that — an'  immejiately  'twould  turn  to 
iron  an'  wit'  wan  blow  she'd  knock  his  brains  out.  Sure 
they  found  the  bodies  all  over  Ireland,  but  divil  a  man, 
woman,  or  child  could  they  ever  convict  av  the  murrder. 
For  why?  Why,  sure,  the  minute  she'd  killed  a  red 
coat  she'd  breathe  on  her  hand  ag'in,  an'  immejiately 
'twas  flesh  an'  blood  ag'in!" 

No,  decidedly  it  would  not  do  to  imprison  this  ex 
cellent  fellow.  Von  Staden  had  read  fairy  tales  as  a 
boy,  but  never  had  he  met  a  man  who  could  tell  them 
like  Terence  Reardon.  A  hard-headed,  highly  in 
telligent  chief  engineer  of  a  big  tramp  steamer  telling 
tales  of  the  fairies!  Von  Staden  couldn't  understand 
it.  It  was  so  childish — and  yet  there  was  nothing 
childish  about  Terence  Reardon.  The  German  won 
dered  if  Terence  Reardon  believed  in  the  fairies  and 
finally  he  asked  him  point-blank  if  he  did;  whereupon 
Terence  turned  a  solemn  eye  upon  him  and  replied: 

"Why,  av  course  I  do  not.  Do  you  think  I'm  a 
blubber- jack  av  a  bhoy?  But  isn't  it  pleasant  to  talk 


88  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

about  thim  whilst  wan  has  nothing  betther  to  do?  Sure, 
whin  I'm  lonely  at  night  I  think  up  new  fairy  tales  to 
tell  to  the  childhren  whin  I  come  home  from  a  v'yage." 

So  that  was  the  Irish  of  it!  Strangely  enough  it 
did  not  occur  to  the  practical  German  that  an  indi 
vidual  with  an  imagination  like  that,  on  such  an  expedi 
tion  as  the  present,  was  the  most  dangerous  person 
imaginable  to  be  given  the  freedom  of  the  ship. 

So  passed  twelve  days  and  nights.  Mr.  Schultz 
kept  in  his  pocket  the  key  to  the  captain's  state-room, 
and  consequently  was  always  present  when  the  little 
cockney  steward  brought  the  prisoner  his  meals,  tidied 
up  the  state-room  and  made  up  the  captain's  bed.  The 
captain  spent  most  of  his  time  lying  on  his  uninjured 
side  and  remained  very  quiet,  for  the  fractured  rib, 
which  had  received  no  attention,  was  causing  him  a 
great  deal  of  suffering.  Neither  did  the  bullet  wound 
in  his  shoulder  heal  cleanly,  for  the  reason,  unknown 
to  the  captain,  that  the  bullet  had  carried  with  it  into 
the  muscle  a  fragment  of  Michael  J.'s  undershirt. 

However,  his  physical  sufferings  were  as  nothing 
compared  with  those  he  experienced  mentally.  He  had 
hoped  to  be  in  fair  fighting  condition  within  a  week 
at  the  latest.  Wrapped  in  paper  and  tucked  away 
in  the  back  of  the  ship's  safe  he  had  a  silver-hilted 
stiletto  he  had  taken  civeay  from  a  cutthroat  who  had 
tried  to  rob  him  once  in  Valparaiso — and  with  this 
weapon  he  had  planned  to  cut  away  the  lock  on  the 
state-room  door.  And  once  outside 

What  Michael  J.  Murphy  did  not  know  was  that 
when  one  has  dislocated  one's  shoulder  one  will  do  very 
little  wood-carving  during  the  three  subsequent  weeks. 
It  almost  broke  the  skipper's  heart  to  think  he  had 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  89 

made  a  threat  in  good  faith  and  was  balked  from 
making  it  good. 

During  this  entire  period  Mr.  Reardon  was  going 
about  his  duties  as  usual,  in  absolute  ignorance  of 
the  state  of  affairs  about  the  ship,  for  he  was  an  inno 
cent,  trustful  sort  of  fellow,  and  to  a  born  romanticist 
like  Terence  the  fairy  tale  which  Mr.  Schultz  had  spun 
at  breakfast  the  morning  after  leaving  Pernambuco  was 
not  at  all  difficult  of  assimilation.  It  appeared — ac 
cording  to  Mr.  Schultz — that  the  skipper  had  gone 
ashore  for  a  night  of  roystering,  and  upon  returning 
to  the  ship  about  midnight,  in  a  wild  state  of  intoxica 
tion,  had  become  involved  in  an  altercation  with  the 
launchman  over  the  fare.  In  the  resultant  battle  the 
skipper,  in  his  helpless  condition,  was  being  terribly 
beaten  by  the  vicious  Pernambucan;  hence  one  could 
scarcely  blame  him  for  drawing  a  pistol  and  shooting 
the  launchman — fatally,  according  to  Mr.  Schultz. 
Of  course,  after  that,  to  have  lingered  longer  inside 
the  three-mile  limit  would  have  been  sheer  insanity,  so 
Mr.  Schultz,  taking  matters  into  his  own  hands,  had 
uphooked  and  skipped  with  doused  lights  from  the 
jurisdiction  of  the  Pernambuco  police. 

"And  how  did  the  skipper  come  out  of  all  this?"  Mr. 
Reardon  had  inquired  anxiously. 

"He  iss  in  rodden  shape,"  Mr.  Schultz  had  declared. 
"Von  of  hiss  angles  vos  brogen,  und  he  vos  cut  mid 
a  knive — preddy  deeb,  but  noddings  to  worry  aboud. 
Der  only  drouble  iss  der  dooty  of  navigading  der  shib 
falls  double  on  der  segond  mate  und  me." 

''Make  him  pay  ye  over-time  out  av  his  own  wages, 
the  wurthless  vagabone!"  Mr.  Reardon  had  urged. 
"May  he  walk  wit'  a  limp  for  the  rest  av  his  days — 


90  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

bad  cess  to  him!    I've  a  notion,  Misther  Schultz,  that 
lad'll  never  comb  his  hair  grey." 

Mr.  Schultz  nodded  lugubriously;  then  he  glanced 
up  and  caught  the  little  cockney  steward  staring  at  him 
so  balefully,  that  he  realized  he  must  have  speech  in 
private  with  the  steward.  Consequently  he  lingered  at 
table  until  Mr.  Reardon  finished  his  breakfast  and  went 
below ;  whereupon  Mr.  Schultz  intimated  to  the  steward, 
in  his  direct  blunt  fashion,  that  for  the  remainder  of 
the  voyage,  Riggins — for  that  was  the  steward's  name — 
was  to  consider  himself  deaf,  dumb  and  blind;  the 
penalty  for  reconsideration  within  the  hearing  of  Mr. 
Reardon  being  a  swift  and  immediate  excursion,  per 
sonally  conducted  by  Mr.  Schultz,  to  Davy  Jones's 
locker!  Following  this  earnest  exhortation,  Riggins, 
never  a  robust  person  mentally  or  physically,  came 
abruptly  to  the  conclusion  that  this  was  one  of  those 
occasions  wrhere  silence,  if  not  exactly  golden,  was  at 
least  to  be  preferred  to  great  riches. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

It  may  appear  strange  that  during  the  days  and 
nights  Michael  J.  Murphy  lay  on  his  bed  of  pain 
Terence  Reardon  did  not  once  pass  the  little  open 
window  of  the  skipper's  state-room.  Not,  however, 
that  the  latter  watched  for  him,  for  he  did  not.  He 
believed  that  Reardon,  like  himself,  was  a  prisoner; 
although,  had  the  chief  passed  the  window  and  had  the 
captain  observed  his  passing,  the  complacence  of  Herr 
von  Staden  and  his  patriotic  company  would  have 
received  a  jar  much  earlier  in  the  voyage. 

Unfortunately,  however,  for  Murphy's  plans,  the 
chief's  stateroom  was  located  in  the  after  part  of  the 
house  and  on  the  side  opposite  the  skipper's,  and  fol 
lowing  their  brief  spat  through  the  speaking-tube, 
Terence  Reardon  had  confined  himself  exclusively  to  his 
engine-room  and  that  portion  of  the  ship  along  which 
he  must  of  necessity  pass  when  going  to  and  from  his 
state-room.  He  told  himself  it  was  the  part  of  wisdom 
for  one  of  his  ferocious  temper  to  avoid  the  occasions 
of  sin.  Certainly  it  would  be  hard  to  pass  the  skipper's 
state-room  without  looking  in,  particularly  since  in 
these  warm  latitudes  the  door  would  probably  be  open; 
for  should  the  skipper  be  within  at  the  time,  they  would 
peradventure  scowl  at  each  other,  and  he  is  a  fool 
indeed  who  cannot  foretell  the  future  when  a  thousand 
generations  of  natural  enemies  exchange  "the  black 
look."  Terence  remembered  his  boy  Johnny,  a  youth 

91 


92  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

who,  according  to  Mrs.  Reardon,  should  never  be  a 
marine  engineer,  but  the  finest  lawyer  that  ever  pouched 
a  fat  fee.  And  there  was  Mary  Agnes  and  Catherine 
Bertram.  Next  year  they  would  begin  taking  piano 
lessons,  and  in  the  fullness  of  time,  no  matter  how  hard 
the  pull,  both  should  go  to  the  state  university  and 
acquire  the  education  made  to  fit  their  father's  head, 
but  by  force  of  circumstances  denied  him.  And  at 
the  thought  Terence  looked  at  his  hard  black  hands  and 
set  himself  resolutely  to  face  a  life  sentence  of  rattling 
ash  hoists,  roaring  furnaces  and  the  soft  sucking 
sounds  of  the  pistons.  Two  hundred  dollars  a  month — 
and  the  union  scale  was  a  hundred  and  fifty !  Ah,  no, 
he  dared  not  trifle  with  that  job.  He  must,  at  all 
hazard,  avoid  friction  with  the  skipper,  for  what  would 
Mrs.  Reardon  say  if  Cappy  Ricks  forced  him  to  roll 
the  bones  with  Mike  Murphy — one  flop  and  high  man 
out?  Mr.  Reardon  could  close  his  eyes  and  see  Mike 
Murphy  roll  out  a  "stiff,"  while  with  trembling  hand 
the  Reardon  rolled  five  sixes ! 

The  Narcissus  had  been  out  of  Pernambuco  harbor 
four  days  before  Mr.  Reardon,  upon  comparing  the  sun 
— which  all  are  agreed  rises  in  the  east — with  the  direc 
tion  in  which  the  ship  was  headed,  and  then  extracting 
the  cube  root  of  the  resultant  product,  and  subtracting 
it  from  the  longtitude  and  latitude  of  the  Cape  of  Good 
Hope,  decided  that  there  must  be  something  wrong  with 
Mr.  Schultz's  navigation.  So  he  spoke  to  Mr.  Schultz 
about  it,  and  was  laughingly  informed  that  they  were 
traveling  on  a  great  circle.  Thereupon  Mr.  Reardon 
remembered  that  at  sea  a  ship  traveling  on  the  arc  of 
a  great  circle,  for  some  mysterious  reason  repudiates 
the  old  geometrical  theorem  that  a  straight  line  is  the 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  93 

shortest  distance  between  two  points.  He  recalled  that 
vessels  plying  between  San  Francisco  and  Yokohama 
describe  a  great  circle  which  brings  them  well  up  toward 
the  Aleutian  Islands.  So  he  was  satisfied  with  the  ex 
planation,  this  being  his  first  voyage  into  the  South  At 
lantic  anyhow ;  but  heicontinued  to  observe  the  sun  each 
morning,  and  still  the  vessel's  head  held  far  to  the  south. 
A  suspicion  that  all  was  not  as  it  should  be  slowly 
settled  in  Mr.  Reardon's  head,  and  though  he  said 
nothing,  he  used  his  eyes  and  ears.  A  dozen  times  a 
day,  as  the  ship  rolled  steadily  south,  he  was  tempted 
to  take  down  the  speaking  tube  and  confide  his  suspi 
cions  to  the  master,  confined  in  his  state-room  by  reason 
of  deep — but  not  serious — knife  wounds.  Each  time 
he  was  on  the  point  of  yielding,  however,  he  remembered 
that  Mike  Murphy  had  called  him  a  renegade — so  he 
refrained. 

The  installation  of  the  wireless  plant  and  the  pres 
ence  aboard  the  ship  of  Herr*von  Staden  had  failed 
to  arouse  his  suspicions  the  first  day  out.  True,  the 
wireless  could  not  have  been  connected  with  the  electric 
light  plant  below  without  Mr.  Reardon's  knowledge 
and  consent,  but  when  he  asked  Mr.  Schultz  about  it  the 
latter  replied  that  Gappy  Ricks  must  have  changed  his 
mind  about  installing  wireless  on  the  Narcissus,  for  he 
had  cabled  to  the  agents  of  the  charterers  in  Pernam- 
buco  to  have  a  wireless  plant  and  a  competent  operator 
waiting  for  the  vessel  upon  arrival.  It  was  Mr. 
Schultz's  opinion  that  the  owners  had  evidently  arrived 
at  the  conclusion  that  it  was  wise  to  have  a  wireless 
aboard  during  war  times.  Personally,  Mr.  Schultz  ap 
proved  of  the  innovation. 

So  did  Terence  Reardon,  for  that  matter.    He  found 


94  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

the  new  wireless  operator  a  charming  fellow,  possessed 
of  talents  far  superior  to  those  of  the  young  men 
who  ordinarily  pound  the  brass  at  sea.  Indeed,  after 
the  second  day  out,  Mr.  Reardon  would  have  been 
heartbroken  had  anything  happened  to  that  wireless. 
For  Herr  August  Carl  von  Staden  sat  at  the  key  al 
most  continuously,  eavesdropping  on  the  war  news,  and 
Mr.  Reardon  never  came  to  the  wireless  room  that  the 
operator  did  not  have  some  news  of  an  overwhelming 
British  defeat! 

As  the  voyage  proceeded,  however,  and  Mr.  Rear- 
don's  mind  grew  a  trifle  uneasy,  reluctantly  he  began 
to  view  Herr  von  Staden  and  the  wireless  with  appre 
hension.  He  asked  the  affable  operator  how  much  the 
Marconi  company  charged  the  Narcissus  for  his  ser 
vices  and  the  rental  of  the  wireless  plant,  and  von 
Staden,  momentarily  stumped,  replied  that  the  tariff 
was  two  hundred  dollars  a  month ;  whereupon  Reardon 
knew  he  lied,  for  the  charge  is  one  hundred  and  forty. 
The  German,  realizing  instantly  that  he  was  not  on 
the  target,  added :  "That  is,  for  a  first-grade  operator 
and  a  plant  like  this.  Of  course  we  furnish  cheaper 
operators  and  less  powerful  plants,  Mr.  Reardon." 

"Oh!  So  that's  the  way  av  it?"  the  chief  replied, 
and  immediately  went  to  his  state-room  for  the  purpose 
of  thinking  it  over.  Eventually  he  came  to  the  con 
clusion  that  all  was  not  as  it  should  be,  but  that,  never 
theless,  it  was  no  affair  of  his.  He  was  paid  to  obey 
signals  given  him  from  the  bridge. 

"  'Tis  no  business  av  mine,  afther  all,"  he  solilo 
quized.  "For  why  should  I  be  puttin'  dogs  in  windows  ? 
He's  paid  to  navigate  the  ship,  an'  didn't  Cappy  Ricks 
tell  me  to  mind  me  own  business?  And  yet,  there's 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  95 

something  wrong  in  this  ship.  I  feel  it  in  me  bones." 
He  felt  it  with  a  force  that  was  almost  violent  when 
Mr.  Schultz  called  down  through  the  speaking-tube 
late  one  afternoon  and  told  him  to  put  her  under  a  dead- 
slow  bell.  That  meant  they  were  practically  heaving 
to,  and  steamers  only  heave  to  at  sea  in  fine  weather 
when  they  have  reached  a  certain  longitude  and  lati 
tude  and  plan  to  keep  an  appointment.  On  the  instant 
there  was  a  strong  odor  of  rat  in  Terence  Reardon's 
engine  room,  but  his  "Very  well,  sir,"  contained  no 
hint  of  his  surprise  and  suspicion.  He  gave  his  orders 
to  the  firemen  to  bank  the  fires,  and  when  this  had 
been  done  he  informed  his  engine-room  crew  that  they 
might  all  go  on  deck  for  five  minutes  and  get  a  breath 
of  fresh  air.  Nothing  loath,  they  scrambled  up  the 
steel  stairway — and  the  instant  the  last  man  was  out  of 
earshot  Terence  Reardon  sprang  to  the  speaking-tube 
to  whistle  up  the  skipper  in  his  room. 

Now,  undoubtedly  the  cool  and  calculating  Herr 
August  Carl  von  Staden  had  been  carefully  trained 
to  take  into  consideration,  when  planning  his  strategy, 
every  conceivable  contingency  that  might  possibly  arise. 
It  is  probable  that  the  German  secret  service  never 
turned  out  a  more  finished  graduate  than  Herr  von 
Staden;  but  the  fact  remains,  nevertheless,  that  there 
are  certain  contingencies  over  which  no  human  being 
has  control.  One  of  these  is  Newton's  law  of  gravita 
tion;  another,  an  equally  immutable  law  to  the  effect 
that  water  will  seek  its  own  level;  a  third,  the  vindic- 
tiveness  of  an  outraged  Irishman;  and  a  fourth,  the 
very  natural  tendency  of  any  man,  not  excepting  Mr. 
Terence  Reardon,  to  be  profoundly  surprised  and  in 
tensely  curious  when  certain  phenomena,  which  we  shall 


96  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

now  proceed  to  explain,  take  place  in  the  engine  room 
where  he  is  chief. 

Michael  J.  Murphy,  having  only  the  day  before 
again  essayed  the  task  of  whistling  up  the  engine  room, 
and  having,  by  reason  of  the  ball  of  cotton  waste  with 
which  the  tube  had  been  plugged  by  the  first  assistant 
engineer,  again  failed  to  receive  the  courtesy  of  a  reply 
from  any  one,  had,  to  put  it  mildly,  been  annoyed. 

"Very  well,  my  bullies,"  he  soliloquized  as  he  hung 
up  the  tube,  "you  wouldn't  speak  to  me  when  I  wanted 
to  speak  to  you ;  so  now  the  first  time  one  of  you  wants 
to  speak  to  me  I'll  hand  you  a  surprise,  and  I'll  hand  it 
to  you  right  in  the  mouth."  And  forthwith  Michael  J. 
had  carefully  poured  down  the  speaking  tube  the  con 
tents  of  the  basin  in  which  he  had  just  made  his  morn 
ing  ablutions !  He  longed  to  do  something  nasty,  and 
he  succeeded  admirably. 

As  we  have  already  remarked,  water  seeks  its  own 
level.  It  ran  down  the  speaking-tube  until  it  encoun 
tered  the  cotton  waste  plug;  whereupon,  due  to  the 
hydrostatic  pressure,  the  plug  gave  way  and  was 
forced  down  to  the  tightly  closed  mouth  of  the  tube, 
and  the  suds  backed  up  behind  it.  It  was  pretty  warm 
in  the  engine  room,  and  most  of  the  water  had  evap 
orated  by  the  time  Terence  Reardon  took  down  the 
looped  tube  and  opened  it  for  the  purpose  of  putting 
his  lips  to  the  mouthpiece  and  blowing  heartily  through 
it.  However,  there  was  about  a  gill  of  water  left  in 
the  tube. 

Now,  as  everybody  knows,  water  running  down  a 
slope  of  seventy-five  or  eighty  degrees  comes  rather 
fast.  Consequently  Mr.  Reardon  had  no  time  to  dodge. 

Why  be  squeamish?     He  got  a  mouthful  and  was 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  97 

very  nauseated  for  half  a  minute.  Also  he  cursed,  we 
regret  to  record,  and  was  very,  very  angry.  Carefully 
he  drained  the  devilish  tube,  wiped  it  clean  with  some 
fresh  waste,  and  racked  his  brain  for  the  right  thing  to 
say  to  Michael  J.  Murphy.  Finally  he  hit  upon  some 
thing  he  concluded  would  about  fill  the  bill,  so  he  put 
his  lips  to  the  mouthpiece  once  more  and  whistled  up 
the  skipper.  To  his  surprise,  however,  his  breath  didn't 
seem  to  get  anywhere:  in  fact,  it  was  directed  back  in 
his  face  rather  forcefully;  so  he  investigated  and  dis 
covered  the  mouthpiece  was  only  half  open.  Upon  en 
deavoring  to  open  it  fully  he  sensed  an  obstruction  in 
the  back  of  it,  so  lie  unscrewed  the  mouthpiece  and 
drew  forth  a  ball  of  dirty,  sour-smelling  cotton  waste. 

He  gazed  a  moment  in  speechless  wonder.  Then: 
"I'll  whistle  that  dirrty  Tomfool,  until  he  answers  me 
in  self-defense,"  he  announced  to  the  main  motor,  and 
forthwith  blew  a  mighty  blast.  Almost  instantly 
Michael  J.  Murphy  yelled:  "Hullo!" 

"Murphy,"  Terence  Reardon  announced  calmly  and 
very  distinctly,  "you're  a  contimptible  dhrunken  ape!" 

"Holy  Moses  !  Reardon,  is  that  you?"  the  astounded 
Murphy  demanded. 

"It  is — as  you'll  discover  whin  you're  able  to  come  on 
deck  an'  give  me  the  satisfaction  I'll  demand  for  the 
dirrty  dab  av  wather  an*  cotton  waste  you  put  in  the 
tube,  knowin'  that  the  firrst  time  I  took  it  down  to 
spheak  to  you,  ye  blackguard,  in  the  line  av  djooty — 
which  is  the  only  reason  I  would  spheak  to  you — I'd 
get  it  full  in  the  mouth.  Ye  dirrty,  lyin*,  schamin*, 
dhrunken  murrderer !" 

He  paused  to  let  that  stream  of  adjectival  oppro 
brium  sink  in.  Silence.  Then: 


98  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"I  poured  the  contents  of  my  washbasin  in  the  tube, 
I'll  admit,  but  I  did  not  plug  it  with  cotton  waste. 
One  of  your  assistants  did  that,  chief,  and  as  for  the 
water,  as  God  is  my  judge,  I  didn't  intend  it  for 
you " 

"Who  else  would  ye  be  afther  insultin*  if  it  wasn't 
me?  Are  ye  not  friendly  wit'  me  assistants?'* 

"Forgive  me,  Reardon,  and  listen  to  what  I'm  going 
to  tell  you." 

And  then  the  tale  was  told.  When  it  was  done 
Terence  Reardon  grunted. 

"I  knew  it!"  he  said.  "I  knew  it!  I  felt  in  me 
bones  there  was  something  wrong  aboard  this  ship. 
An'  so  ye  were  not  dhrunk  an'  disordherly  at  Pernam- 
buco?" 

"The  liars!  Did  they  tell  you  that?  Reardon,  it's 
only  the  mercy  of  heaven  they  didn't  murder  me.  I'm 
lying  here,  helpless  and  crippled  in  my  state-room, 
with  the  key  turned  in  the  lock.  They've  stolen  my  ship 
from  me,  and  I  can  tell  by  the  roll  of  her  she's  prac 
tically  hove  to  under  a  dead-slow  bell  this  minute. 
We've  reached  the  rendezvous — we're  waiting  for  the 
German  fleet  to  deliver  the  coal;  and  oh,  man,  man,  if 
we're  caught  by  a  British  cruiser  we'll  lose  the  ship ! 
They'll  confiscate  her,  chief.  Wirra !  WTirra !"  he 
cried,  breaking  into  the  forgotten  wail  of  his  childhood. 
"How  can  I  ever  face  Matt  Peasley  and  Cappy  Ricks 
after  this?  Reardon,  man,  they'll  think  we  stood  in 
with  the  Germans  and  let  them  do  it.  We're  both  Irish 
— they  know  we're  both  pro-German " 

"What's  that  you  said?"  Terence  demanded  sharply. 
"Me  pro-German.  Me?  I  was  pro-German — yis — 
wanst!" 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  99 

Fell  a  silence. 

Now,  for  the  benefit  of  the  uninitiated,  be  it  known 
that  there  is  a  certain  curse  employed  by  the  Irish 
and  by  no  other  race  on  earth.  Whenever  you  hear  an 
Irishman  employ  it,  you  know  instantly — provided, 
of  course,  you  are  Irish  yourself — just  what  kind  of 
Irish  that  Irishman  is.  You  cannot  mistake  it.  There 
is  no  possible  chance.  It  is  only  brought  forth 
with  the  dust  of  the  centuries  on  it,  so  to  speak,  to 
grace  a  fitting  occasion.  Terence  Reardon  felt  that 
such  an  occasion  was  now  at  hand.  As  naturally,  as 
inevitably,  therefore,  as  the  suds  ran  down  the  speak 
ing-tube,  that  curse  climbed  up  it — softly,  distinctly, 
and  with  a  wealth  of  feeling  in  the  back  of  it : 

"God  put  the  curse  av  Crummle  on  thim  !" 

Mr.  Reardon,  of  course,  referred  to  the  late  Oliver 
Cromwell.  Any  one  who  has  ever  read  the  sorry  history 
of  Erin  knows  what  the  amiable  Oliver  did  to  the  Irish. 
Consequently  such  an  one  will  have  no  difficulty  in  esti 
mating  the  precise  proportions  of  bad  luck  Terence 
Reardon  prayed  might  be  the  immediate  heritage  of  the 
crew  of  the  S.S.  Narcissus. 

Michael  J.  Murphy  blinked  rapidly,  for  all  the 
world  as  if  Mr.  Schultz  had  entered  at  that  moment  and 
struck  him  a  terrific  blow  on  top  of  the  head.  A  more 
dazed  Irishman  than  he  never  threw  an  ancient  egg 
or  a  defunct  cat  at  an  alleged  Celtic  comedian  with 
green  whiskers.  He  was  absolutely  staggered — but  not 
for  long.  The  Irish  come  back  very  quickly. 

"Shame  on  you,  Terence  Reardon!"  he  declared. 
"And  you  with  a  Masonic  ring  on  your  finger." 

"Glory  be!"  cried  the  delighted  Terence.  "Sure  are 
you  wan  av  us?" 


100  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"One  of  you !"  Mike  Murphy  fairly  shrieked.  "The 
minute  I'm  out  of  this  room  you'll  apologize  or  fight 
for  thinking  I'm  a  renegade." 

"Naboclishr  laughed  Terence  Reardon,  slipping  into 
the  Gaelic  and  out  again.  "The  divil  a  Mason  am  I! 
Sure  that  ring  ye  saw  on  me  finger  that  day  in  the  office 
av  the  owners  belonged  to  me  second  assistant  in  the 
Arab.  He'd  lost  it  in  the  engine  room,  an*  a  mont* 
afther  he'd  left  I  found  it.  Not  knowin*  what  ship  he 
was  in,  'twas  me  intintion  to  take  the  ring  over  to  the 
Marine  Engineers'  Association  an'  lave  it  for  him  wit' 
the  secreth'ry ;  and  to  make  sure  I  wouldn't  forget  it  I 
put  it  on  me  finger " 

"Well,  you  knew,  Terence,  that  with  the  likes  of  me 
round  you'd  not  be  liable  to  forget  it,"  Mike  Mur 
phy  laughed. 

"As  for  you,  ye  divil,"  Terence  continued,  "faith, 
what  wit'  yer  English  tweeds  an'  the  fancy  cut  av  thim, 
an*  yer  lack  av  the  brogue  an*  the  broad  a  av  ye,  I 
thought,  begorra,  ye  were  a  dirrty  Far  Down!  God 
love  ye,  Michael,  but  'tis  the  likes  av  you  I'm  proud 
to  be  ship-mates  wit'." 

"But  you  said  you  were  from  Belfast,  Terence." 

"So  I  am.  I  was  borrn  there,  but  me  parents- — the 
Lord  *a'  merrcy  on  their  sowls — moved  back  to  Kerry." 

"Terence !" 

"What  is  it,  Michael,  me  poor  lad?" 

"Do  you  ever  drink  on  duty?  I  don't  mean  with 
your  superiors ' 

The  chief  chuckled.  He  knew  what  Murphy  was 
alluding  to. 

"I  do,"  he  replied,  "wit'  me  equals." 

"  'Tis  a  pity,  Terence,  that  man  Schultz  has  the 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  101 

key  to  my  state-room  in  his  pocket.  Now  if  you  could 
manage  to  tap  that  Dutchman  on  the  head  with  some 
thing  hard  and  heavy,  take  the  key  out  of  his  pocket 
and  throw  him  overboard,  you  could  let  me  out  of  this 
purgatory  I'm  in.  Then  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  the 
sight  of  me  and  the  absence  of  Mr.  Schultz  would  put 
a  bit  of  heart  in  that  little  cockney  steward — and  may 
be  he'd  bring  a  drink  to  hearten  you  for  what's  ahead 
of  you  this  night." 

"An'  what  might  that  be,  avic?"  Terence  demanded. 

"I  want  you  to  steal  the  ship  back  from  them,  Ter- 
ence." 

"Very  well,  Michael.  'Tis  not  a  small  thing  ye  ask 
me  to  do,  but  the  divil  a  more  willin'  man  could  ye 
find  to  ask.  Have  ye  figured  out  the  plan  av  cam 
paign?  Sure  what  wit'  the  suddenness  av  it  all  I'm  all 
in  a  shweat  wit'  excitement." 

"You  may  be  cold  enough  before  morning,  Terry,  my 
boy." 

"Bad  luck  to  you,  Michael!  Dyin'  is  wan  thing  I 
cannot  afford  to  do,  although  be  the  same  token  they 
tell  me  ould  Ricks  has  a  kind  shpot  in  the  heart  av  him 
for  the  widow  an'  the  orphan — particularly  av  thim 
that  dies  in  his  service!  As  I  say,  I  cannot  afford  to 
get  kilt,  but  in  back  av  that  ag'in  I  cannot  afford  to 
lose  the  best  job  I  ever  had.  An'  afther  all,  'tis  a  poor 
man  that  won't  fight  for  a  fine,  kind  gentleman " 

"Damn  the  fine,  kind  gentleman!  It  serves  him 
right  for  letting  us  get  into  this  fix.  He  can  afford 
the  loss  of  the  ship,  but  you  and  I,  Terence  Reardon, 
cannot  afford  the  loss  of  our  honor  and  self-respect. 
For  the  sake  of  the  blood  that's  in  us  we  can't  afford 
to  let  a  lot  of  Dutchmen  steal  our  ship  and  cargo." 


102  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Whist !"  Reardon  warned.  "Hurry  up.  Me  crew 
is  comin'  below  ag'in." 

"Make  it  a  point  to  pass  by  my  state-room  window 
after  dark.  You'll  find  a  scrap  of  paper  on  the  sill. 
Help  yourself  to  it." 

"Faith,  I  will,"  Mr.  Reardon  promised  fervently,  and 
the  tube  closed  with  a  click. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

Terence  Reardon's  preparations  for  the  night's 
work  began  the  instant  he  hung  up  the  speaking-tube. 
The  Narcissus  carried  three  assistant  engineers,  in 
consequence  of  which  Mr.  Reardon  was  not  required 
to  stand  a  watch  unless  he  so  elected;  although 
from  force  of  habit  acquired  in  the  days  when  he  had 
been  chief  of  the  Arab — a  little  three- thousand-ton 
tramp — and  perforce  had  to  stand  a  regular  watch,  he 
found  it  very  difficult  not  to  spend  at  least  eight  hours 
in  every  twenty-four  in  the  engine  room.  When,  event 
ually,  he  came  to  a  realization  that  his  job  was  not 
to  make  the  engines  behave,  but  to  see  that  they  be 
haved  properly,  he  spent  more  of  his  time  on  deck, 
and  put  in  only  a  few  hours  below  during  the  watch  of 
the  third  assistant  engineer — the  third  assistant  being 
a  young  man  in  whom  the  chief  reposed  exactly  that 
degree  of  confidence  a  chief  engineer  should  always 
repose  in  a  third  assistant.  Mr.  Reardon,  therefore, 
was  at  liberty  to  leave  the  engine-room  whenever  he 
felt  so  disposed ;  and  following  his  illuminating  conver 
sation  with  the  captain  he  felt  very  much  disposed  to 
leave  immediately. 

He  went  first  to  his  state-room,  where  he  bathed, 
changed  into  new  under-clothes  and  socks,  donned  a 
freshly  laundered  suit  of  faded  dungarees — old,  faded, 
well-washed  dungarees,  by  the  way,  always  appearing 
neater  and  cleaner  than  new  ones — and  shaved;  for  if 

103 


104.  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Providence  willed  it  that  he  should  die  to-night.  Mr. 
Reardon  was  resolved  to  be  in  such  a  highly  sanitary 
condition  that  "those  upon  whom  should  devolve  the 
melanchoty  duty  of  laying  him  out"— which  phrase, 
in  the  Hibernian  sense,  means  those  who  should  dispose 
his  limbs,  close  his  eyes,  tie  up  his  black  jowls  with 
a  towel  and  fold  his  hands — alas,  so  white  in  death, 
at  last!  across  his  still  breast — might  be  moved  to  re 
mark  that,  notwithstanding  the  nature  of  the  de 
ceased's  vocation,  they  could  not  recall  ever  having 
seen  a  cleaner  corpse. 

Having  attended  to  his  pre-dissolution  toilet,  Mr. 
Reardon  next  sat  in  at  his  littered  desk,  swept  a  space 
clear  of  tobacco  crumbs,  ashes,  pipes  and  some  old 
copies  of  the  Cork  Eagle,  and  sat  down  to  write  a 
farewell  letter  to  his  wife,  hoping  that,  even  though 
his  enemies  should  slay  him,  yet  would  they  have  suffi 
cient  respect  for  the  dead  to  mail  that  letter  to  Mrs. 
Reardon.  And,  in  order  that  he  might  not  anger  his 
posthumous  benefactors,  he  mentioned  nothing  of  the 
state  of  affairs  aboard  the  ship.  He  merely  stated 
that  she  might  never  see  him  again,  in  which  event 
she  was  to  call  upon  the  owners  and  ask  them  to  invest 
for  her  the  proceeds  of  his  life  insurance  policy,  since 
they  could  and  would  invest  it  to  better  advantage 
than  she.  Then  he  spoke  of  his  grief  at  the  thought 
of  the  children  being  forced  to  forego  their  college  edu 
cation  and  suggested  that  she  ask  Gappy  Ricks  to  give 
Johnny  a  place  in  his  office;  also,  should  the  owners 
offer  anything  as  compensation  for  the  loss  of  her 
husband,  she  was  to  accept  it,  for,  as  God  was  his 
judge,  she  would  be  entitled  to  it !  This  last  sentence 
Terence  underscored  for  emphasis;  that  was  as  close 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  105 

as  he  came  to  saying  that  if  he  died  it  would  be  in  de 
fense  of  his  owner's  interest.  Then  he  commended 
her  to  the  comfort  of  her  religion  and  subscribed  him 
self:  "Your  loving  and  devoted  husband,  Terence  P. 
Reardon,  Chief  Engineer  S.S.  Narcissus." 

Having  set  his  small  affairs  in  order  against  a  hasty 
exit  from  this  vale  of  hatreds,  Mr.  Reardon,  in  uncon 
scious  imitation  of  all  the  condemned  men  who  had  pre 
ceded  him  on  the  voyage  across  the  Styx,  repaired  to 
the  dining  saloon  and  partook  of  a  hearty  meal.  He 
realized  he  had  undertaken  a  contract  that  would  re 
quire  the  employment  of  weapons  more  formidable  than 
his  hard  fists,  and  devoutly  he  wished  that,  like  the 
fairy  queen,  he  had  but  to  breathe  on  them  to  metamor 
phose  them  into  pig  iron.  He  pictured  the  slaughter 
aboard  the  Narcissus  when  he  should  wade  into  the 
conflict.  Finally  he  made  up  his  mind  that,  in  lieu  of 
an  iron  hand  or  two,  he  would  use  his  favorite  monkey 
wrench,  for  he  had  no  firearms  whatsoever;  although, 
had  somebody  presented  him  with  a  one-man  machine 
gun  with  full  directions  for  using,  Mr  Reardon  would 
have  recoiled  in  horror  from  it.  Firearms  were  highly 
dangerous.  They  killed  so  many  people ! 

He  left  the  table  long  before  the  others  had  finished. 
There  was  no  one  on  deck  as  he  emerged  from  the 
dining  saloon,  so  he  walked  leisurely  round  past  the 
captain's  cabin,  whistling  the  "Cruiskeen  Lawn"  to  let 
Mike  Murphy  know  who  was  coming.  Evidently  Mi 
chael  assimilated  the  hint,  for  there  was  an  envelope  on 
the  little  window  sill  as  Terence  hove  abreast  of  it.  He 
snatched  it  swiftly  away  and  continued  round  to  his 
own  state-room. 

The  envelope  contained  Michael  J.  Murphy's  plan 


106  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

for  campaign  worked  out  to  the  most  minute  detail, 
by  reason  of  his  absolute  knowledge  of  the  customs 
aboard  the  ship.  Mr.  Reardon  read  the  remarkable 
document  and  sat  lost  in  admiration;  a  twinkle  leaped 
to  his  eyes  and  a  cunning,  rather  deadly  little  smile  came 
sneaking  round  the  corners  of  his  broad  chin. 

"Arrah,  but  'tis  a  beautiful  schame,"  he  soliloquized. 
"Who  but  that  lad  could  have  fought  av  it?  An'  here 
I've  been  shpendin'  the  past  two  hours  borrowin*  trou 
ble." 

He  read  and  reread  the  plan  of  attack,  in  order  to 
familiarize  himself  with  the  details;  then  he  held  a 
match  to  the  document  and  destroyed  it.  He  con 
sidered  a  moment,  and  then  performed  a  similar  service 
to  his  farewell  letter  to  Mrs.  Reardori,  for  the  chief 
engineer  of  the  S.S.  Narcissus,  of  San  Francisco,  had 
made  up  his  mind  not  to  die — to-night! 


CHAPTER  XV 

Mr,  Schultz,  the  first  assistant,  and  Mr.  von  Staden 
were  engaged  in  coffee  and  repartee  when  Terence  Rear- 
don  thrust  his  head  in  at  the  dining  saloon  window. 
He  was  mildly  excited. 

"Be  the  Great  Gun  av  Athlone !"  he  declared.  "I've 
just  been  bit  be  a  bedbug — an'  I  fought  there  wasn't 
a  bedbug  in  the  ship !" 

Mr.  Schultz  looked  up,  horrified.  "Chieve,"  he  said, 
"dot  is  rodden  news.  Bedbugs!  Ach!" 

"An'  well  you  may  'Ach,'  Misther  Schultz.  Let  a 
colony  av  bedbugs  move  into  the  Narcissus  an'  Terence 
P.  Reardon  will  move  out.  There's  only  wan  thing 
to  do,  Misther  Schultz,  an'  that  is  to  tackle  the  divils 
before  we're  overwhelmed  be  the  weight  av  numbers. 
Have  ye  a  bit  av  sulphur  in  yer  shtore-room,  Misther 
Schultz — the  kind  that  comes  in  balls  an'  is  used  to 
burrn  in  shtate-rooms  to  kill  bedbugs  ?" 

When  Terence  Reardon  put  that  innocent  query  to 
the  first  mate  he  knew  very  well  Mr.  Schultz  would 
reply  in  the  negative — which  he  did — for  the  reason 
that  Michael  J.  Murphy  had  privately  informed  Mr. 
Reardon  that  the  little  cockney  steward,  Riggins,  had 
charge  of  the  bedbug  ammunition.  Riggins,  who  had 
been  standing  with  his  back  against  the  wall,  eyeing 
Mr.  Schultz  sourly,  now  spoke  up  and  said  he  had 
some  sulphur. 

"More  power  to  ye,  Riggins !"  Mr.  Reardon  declared 

107 


108  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

heartily.  "Then  do  ye,  like  the  good  lad,  give  me  two 
or  three  balls  av  it.  I'll  burn  them  in  me  shtate-room 
to-night,  wit'  the  door  an'  window  locked,  an'  be  morrn- 
in'  sorra  bedbug  will  be  left  alive." 

"Very  well,  sir,"  Riggins  replied.  "Might  Hi  arsk, 
Mr.  Reardon,  where  you  hintend  passin*  the  night  ?" 

"I'll  shleep  in  me  auld  aisy-chair  abaft  the  house  an* 
next  the  funnel,  where  I'll  be  snug  an'  warrm,"  Mr. 
Reardon  replied,  for  he  desired  an  excuse  to  be  on  deck 
all  night  without  arousing  the  suspicions  of  Mr.  Schultz 
or  von  Staden. 

The  steward,  having  finished  serving  those  who  ate 
in  the  dining  saloon,  stepped  out  on  deck  and  started 
for  his  own  room.  Mr.  Reardon  remained  by  the  win 
dow  a  minute,  discoursing  on  the  curse  of  bedbugs 
aboard  a  ship,  and  then  with  a  sigh  followed  the 
steward  leisurely.  Mr.  Schultz  appeared  undecided 
whether  or  not  to  accompany  him  in  the  capacity  of 
censor,  but  finally  concluded  to  remain  and  finish  his 
coffee,  for  if  Riggins  had  decided  to  enlighten  the  chief 
as  to  the  real  reason  for  the  skipper's  indisposition  he 
had  had  frequent  opportunity  to  do  so  during  the  past 
ten  days.  It  did  not  seem  likely,  therefore,  that  he 
\vould  run  any  risks  at  this  late  date.  To  Mr. 
Schultz,  Riggins  appeared  to  be  a  man  who  could  be 
depended  upon  to  remember  which  side  his  bread  was 
buttered  on  and  who  supplied  the  butter. 

Arrived  at  the  steward's  state-room,  Mr.  Reardon 
helped  himself  to  the  entire  box  of  bedbug  exterminator 
and  addressed  Riggins  very  briefly : 

"Riggins,  ye're  a  child  av  Johnny  Bull,  are  ye  not?" 

Riggins,  without  the  slightest  trace  of  embarrass 
ment,  admitted  his  disgrace. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  109 

"An*  bein'  what  ye  are,"  Mr.  Reardon  continued, 
"would  ye  do  somethin'  av  great  binifit  to  England?" 

Riggins  replied  that  inasmuch  as  he  had  lost  two 
brothers  at  the  Battle  of  the  Marne,  that  ought  to 
indicate  bally  well  where  the  Riggins  tribe  stood  on 
the  subject  of  defense  of  the  realm. 

"Good!"  Mr.  Reardon  murmured.  "Even  if  mis 
guided  in  their  pathriotic  motives,  shtill  yer  brothers 
were  brave  min,  an'  for  that  I  respect  thim.  Now, 
thin,  Riggins,  ye  rabbit,  listen  to  me:  In  a  momint  av 
surpassin'  innocince  Captain  Murphy  an'  mesilf  swal 
lowed  a  cute  suggestion  from  a  lad  whose  back  I'll 
break  in  two  halves  whin  the  Narcissus  gets  back  to 
San  Francisco.  'Why  not  save  expinse,'  says  he,  'an' 
ship  the  crew  av  this  German  liner  that's  interned  over 
in  Richardson's  Bay?'  Riggins,  to  make  a  long  shtory 
short,  we  have  thim  this  minute,  an'  the  dear  God 
knows  that  even  if  shipped  at  the  German  scale  av 
wages  that  gang'll  prove  a  dear  crew  to  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  if  you  an'  I,  Riggins,  fail  to  do 
our  djooty.  They've  half  murdered  the  captain, 
shtolen  the  ship  an'  cargo  from  him,  an'  run  her  t'ou- 
sands  av  miles  off  her  course  to  deliver  the  coal  to  the 
German  fleet." 

"Oh,  my  bloody  ol'  Aunt  Maria !"  gasped  the  horri 
fied  Riggins. 

"What  I  want  to  know  from  you,  Riggins,  is  this: 
Will  ye  help  me  shteal  the  ship  back  to-night?  We're 
runnin'  almost  due  south,  an'  that  good-for-nothin' 
von  Staden  has  been  in  communication  wit'  the  fleet 
all  day  long.  I  feel  it  in  me  bones.  If  we  get  the  ship 
back  we'll  head  due  west  for  the  coast  av  South 
America  an'  hug  the  three-mile  limit — an*  the  devil 


'llO  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

scoort  them  thin.  Riggins,  ye  gossoon,  what  for  the 
cause  av  Merry  England?  They  wouldn't  take  ye  for 
a  gift  in  the  British  Arrmy,  for  I  doubt  if  ye'd  weigh 
ninety  pounds  soakin5  wet  an*  a  rock  in  yer  hand,  but 
for  all  that,  here's  an  iligant  opporchunity  for  ye  to 
serrye  yer  counthry,  an'  should  worrd  av  yer  brave 
action  reach  the  king — bad  cess  to  him — he  may  call 
ye  Sir  Thomas  Riggins  an'  make  ye  consul-general  av 
the  Cannibal  Islands. 

"Out  wit'  it,  Riggins.  Yer  king  an'  counthry  calls 
ye,  an'  be  the  same  token  so  do  Michael  J.  Murphy  an' 
Terence  P.  Reardon.  What'll  ye  give,  Riggins,  to 
preserve  the  seas  to  Britain?" 

"Me  'eart's  blood,  that's  wot!"  Riggins  replied 
quietly. 

"I  accept  the  sacrifice  in  the  name  av  His  Majesty, 
King  Jarge !  Be  on  deck  at  ten  o'clock  sharp,  waitin' 
close  undher  the  shtarboard  companion  leadin'  to  the 
bridge.  Whin  I  come  out  on  the  shtarboard  ind  av 
the  bridge  an'  whistle  'O'Donnell  Abu,'  do  ye " 

"S'help  me,  chief,  I  never  'card  of  the  blighter  be 
fore,"  Riggins  interrupted. 

"God  forgive  me!"  Mr.  Reardon  murmured  sotto 
voce.  "I'll  have  to  do  it.  Well,  thin,  Riggins,  whin  I 
come  out  on  the  shtarboard  ind  av  the  bridge  an' 
whistle  'God  Save  the  King'— troth,  I'll  gamble  that's 
one  blighter  ye've  hearrd  tell  av — do  ye  run  up  into  the 
pilot-house  an'  take  the  wheel.  I'll  not  whistle  until  we 
have  the  deck  to  ourselves,  wit'out  fear  av  intherrup- 
tion,  an'  ye  must  come  quick  an'  take  the  wheel,  else 
the  vessel'll  fall  off  into  the  trough  av  the  sea  an5 
commince  to  wallow — which  same'll  wake  up  the  second 
bring  him  an'  von  Staden  on  deck  to  see 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  111 

what's  wrong  wit'  her.  An*  until  I'm  ready  to  call  on 
those  lads  I'm  not  wishful  to  have  them  call  on  me! 
Remimber,  Riggins:  Wan  jump  an'  ye're  into  the 
pilot-house;  then  howld  her  head  up  to  the  sea — an' 
lave  the  rest  to  me.  Gwan  wit'  ye  now,  or  that  skut, 
Schultz,  will  be  gettin'  suspicious  av  us." 

When  Mr.  Schultz  came  along  ten  minutes  later  he 
found  Mr.  Reardon  very  busy  calking  with  oakum  the 
cracks  round  the  door  and  window  of  his  state-room, 
through  which  little  wisps  of  yellow  smoke  were  curling. 
Mr.  Schultz  was  so  completely  deceived  that  he  hurried 
round  to  his  own  quarters  and  pawed  over  his  own 
mattress  and  bedding  in  a  vain  search  for  bedbugs. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

At  eight  o'clock  Mr.  Schultz  relieved  the  second 
mate  on  the  bridge,  and  five  minutes  later  Terence 
Reardon,  for  the  first  time  invaded  that  forbidden  terri 
tory.  "Bad  cess  to  me!"  he  complained  plaintively. 
"I'm  the  picthur  av  bad  luck.  I've  a  leaky  connection 
below  an'  divil  a  bit  av  red  lead.  Could  ye  lind  me  a  dab 
av  red  lead  from  yer  shtore-room,  Misther  Schultz?" 

Mr.  Schultz  marvelled  that  any  man  could  force  his 
mind  to  dwell  on  red  lead,  leaky  pipe  connections,  sul 
phur  and  bedbugs  in  a  ship  like  the  Narcissus  at  a 
time  like  this.  He  had  met  a  few  innocents  in  his  day, 
but  this  Irish  engineer  was  most  innocent  of  all. 

"Sure,  Mike!"  he  replied,  and  grinned  at  his  feeble 
play  on  words.  "Und  as  I  gannot  leave  der  bridge  yet, 
here  iss  der  key  to  der  store-room.  Helb  yourself,  mine 
Freund,  und  den  gif  me  der  key  back." 

"Ye  addle-pated  son  of  sin!"  Mr.  Reardon  solilo 
quized  as  he  took  the  key  and  departed.  "Faith,  a 
booby  birrd  has  more  sinse  nor  you!  D'ye  suppose  I 
didn't  wait  until  ye  were  on  djooty  before  axin'  ye, 
well  knowin'  ye'd  lind  me  the  key  an'  I'd  be  alone  in  yer 
shtore-room !" 

Mr.  Reardon  was  in  the  store-room  less  than  two 
minutes.  When  he  emerged  he  carried  a  daub  of  red 
lead  on  an  old  spoon,  as  Mr.  Schultz,  looking  down  on 
the  dimly  lighted  main  deck,  observed.  What  he  did 
not  observe,  however,  was  the  chief's  action  in  tossing 

112 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  113 

the  spoon  overboard  the  instant  he  passed  beyond  the 
range  of  Mr.  Schultz's  vision.  It  is  probable,  also, 
that  the  mate  would  have  been  disturbed  could  he  have 
seen  Mr.  Reardon  in  his  state-room,  with  the  door 
locked,  removing  from  beneath  his  dungaree  jumper 
several  fathoms  of  light,  strong,  cotton  signal  halyard, 
two  five-foot  lengths  of  half-inch  steel  chain,  and  a 
strip  of  canvas.  His  pockets  also  gave  up  two  pad 
locks,  with  keys  to  fit.  This  loot  Mr.  Reardon  very 
carefully  hid  in  the  space  under  his  settee,  after  which, 
with  due  thanks,  he  returned  the  key  to  Mr.  Schultz. 

The  remainder  of  the  evening  until  nine-thirty  Ter 
ence  spent  in  the  wireless  room  with  Herr  von  Staden. 
Then  he  retired,  very  low  in  spirits,  to  his  state-room, 
to  make  his  preparations  for  wholesale  assault  with  a 
deadly  weapon — possibly  wholesale  murder!  He  cut 
the  signal  halyard  into  short  lengths ;  then  he  cut  the 
piece  of  canvas  into  strips  about  two  inches  wide  and 
secreted  the  halyard  and  canvas  strips  here  and  there 
about  his  person.  Then  he  descended  to  the  engine 
room  and  selected  his  monkey  wrench  from  the  tool  rack 
on  the  wall,  helped  himself  to  a  handful  of  cotton 
waste,  and  returned  to  his  state-room  mournfully 
keening  "The  Sorrowful  Lamentation  of  Callaghan, 
Greally  and  Mullen,  killed  at  the  Fair  of  Turlough- 
more." 

"Wirra,"  he  murmured  presently,  "but  'tis  a  terrible 
thing  to  hit  an  unsuspectin'  man  wit'  a  monkey  wrench ! 
An'  that  divil  von  Staden,  for  all  his  faults,  is  not  a 
bad  lad  at  all  at  all.  An'  I'd  give  five  dollars — yes, 
seven  an'  a  half — if  he  were  bald  an'  shiny  on  any  other 
shpot  save  an'  exceptin'  the  shpot  I  have  to  hit  him. 
Ochone ! 


114  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"  'Come  tell  me,  dearest  mother,  what  makes  me  father 

shtay 

Or  what  can  be  th'  reason  that  he's  so  long  away?' 
'Oh,  howld  yer  tongue,  me  darlin'  son,  yer  tears  do  grieve 

me  sore, 

I  fear  he  has  been  murdhered  in  the  fair  av  Turlough- 
more !' 

"Sure,  I  haven't  got  the  heart  to  dhrive  the  head  av 
this  monkey  wrench  into  that  bald  shpot.  If  he'd  hair 
there  I  wouldn't  mind."  Mr.  Reardon  sighed  dismally. 
"I'll  have  to  wrap  a  waddin'  av  waste  around  me 
weapon,  so  I'll  neither  kill  nor  mangle  but  lay  thim  out 
wit'  wan  good  crack 

"  'It  is  on  the  firrst  av  August,  the  truth  I  will  declare, 
Those  people  they  assimbled  that  day  all  at  the  fair, 
But  little  was  their  notion  that  evil  was  in  shtore, 
All  by  the  bloody  Peelers  at  the  fair  av  Turloughmore.' 

"I  must  practice  crackin'  the  divils!  Sure,  'twould 
be  an  awful  thing  to  have  the  sin  av  murrder  on  me 
sowl — not  that  'tis  murrder  to  kill  a  Dutchman  that's 
a  self-confessed  pirate  into  the  bargain.  Shtill,  'tis 
a  terrible  fought  to  carry  to  the  grave " 

Wham!  Mr.  Reardon  brought  his  padded  wrench 
down  on  his  defenseless  bed.  "Too  harrd,"  he  told 
himself.  "Sure  a  blow  like  that  on  top  av  the  head 
would  knock  out  the  teeth  av  the  divil  himself!  Less 
horse-power,  Terence !" 

Wham !  He  tried  it  again,  this  time  with  better 
results.  For  five  minutes  he  beat  the  bedclothes ;  then 
his  spirits  rose  and,  like  the  mercurial  Celt  that  he  was, 
he  chanted  blithely  a  verse  from  "The  Night  Before 
Larry  Was  Stretched": 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  115 

"  'Though  sure  'tis  the  best  way  to  die, 

Oh,  the  divil  a  betther  a-livin' ! 
For  sure  whin  the  gallows  is  high, 

Your  journey  is  shorter  to  heaven; 
But  what  harasses  Larry  the  most, 

An*  makes  his  poor  sowl  melancholy, 
Is  to  think  av  the  time  whin  his  ghost 
Will  come  in  a  sheet  to  sweet  Molly ! 
Oh,  sure,  'twill  kill  her  alive !'  " 

He  slipped  the  short,  heavy  monkey  wrench  up  his 
right  sleeve,  walked  out  on  deck  and  stood  at  the  corner 
of  the  house,  smoking  placidly  and  gazing  down  on  the 
main  deck  forward.  The  look-out  on  the  forecastle 
head  was  not  visible  in  the  darkness,  but  Mr.  Reardon 
was  not  worried  about  that.  "For  why,"  he  argued  to 
himself,  "should  I  go  lookin'  for  the  skut  whin  if  I  wait 
a  bit  he'll  come  fluttherin*  into  me  hand?" 

He  did.  At  five  minutes  after  ten  Mr.  Schultz  hailed 
the  look-out  in  German,  and  although  Mr.  Reardon 
spoke  no  German,  yet  did  he  understand  that  order. 
Mr.  Schultz,  a  victim  of  habit,  desired  the  look-out 
to  go  to  the  galley  and  bring  up  some  hot  coffee  for 
him  and  the  helmsman.  It  was  the  custom  aboard  the 
Narcissus,  as  it  is  in  most  Pacific  Coast  boats,  for  the 
cook,  just  before  retiring,  to  brew  a  pot  of  coffee,  drain 
off  the  grounds  and  leave  it  to  simmer  on  the  galley 
range  where,  at  intervals  of  two  hours  during  the  night, 
the  watch  could  come  and  help  itself. 

Terence  Reardon  knew  that  the  look-out,  after  heat 
ing  the  coffee  and  bringing  a  few  cups  up  on  the  bridge, 
would  return  to  the  galley  and  partake  of  a  cup  and  a 
bite  himself. 

The  man  came  down  off  the  forecastle  head,  crossed 


116  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

the  main  deck  and  disappeared  in  the  galley.  In  about 
ten  minutes  Mr.  Reardon  saw  him  climb  up  the  port 
companion  to  the  bridge ;  a  minute  later  he  came  down. 
Mr.  Reardon  waited  until  he  was  certain  the  fellow 
was  sipping  his  coffee  in  the  galley;  then  with  the  ut 
most  nonchalance  he  went  up  on  the  bridge  and  hailed 
Mr.  Schultz,  who  was  standing  amidships  blowing  on  a 
cup  of  coffee. 

"Begorra,"  he  complained,  "Divil  a  wink  can  I 
shleep  to-night.  I've  been  sittin'  wit'  the  wireless  oper 
ator  all  evenin',  an'  now,  thinks  I,  he's  weary  listenin' 
to  me  nonsinse,  so  I'll  go  up  on  the  bridge  an'  inter 
view  Misther  Schultz.  If  I — be  the  Rock  av  Cashel! 
What  was  that?" 

"Vot?  Vere?"  Mr.  Schultz  exclaimed,  and  set  down 
his  cup  of  coffee.  He  was  all  excitement,  for  he  had 
been  looking  for  the  flash  of  a  searchlight  for  the  past 
hour  and  he  wondered  now  if  the  unsuspecting  Reardon 
had  seen  it  first. 

"Over  that  way."  Mr.  Reardon  pointed  off  the  port 
bow.  "Did  ye  not  see  that  light?" 

"A  light.     Gott  im  Himmel!" 

"Ye  can't  see  it  now,"  Mr.  Reardon  replied  sooth 
ingly.  He  stepped  round  to  the  back  of  the  mate  and 
permitted  his  trusty  monkey  wrench  to  slip  down  into 
his  hand.  "But  if  ye  continue  to  look  in  that  direction, 
Misther  Schultz,  ye'll  see  not  wan  light  but  several." 

"Domierwetter!  I  gannot  see  dem,"  Mr.  Schultz  pro 
tested,  wondering  if  there  might  not  be  some  defect  in 
his  eyesight. 

"Have  no  fear.  Keep  lookin*  that  way  an*  ye'll  see 
thim,"  Mr.  Reardon  reassured  him.  "Ha-ha,  ye  divil !" 
he  crooned — and  struck. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  117 

"I'll  gamble  ye  saw  the  lights  I  promised  ye,"  he 
breathed  into  the  ear  of  the  unconscious  mate  as  he 
deftly  caught  the  falling  body  and  eased  it  noiselessly 
to  the  deck  to  avoid  calling  the  attention  of  the  helms 
man  to  the  interesting  tableau  going  on  behind  him. 
Quickly  he  gagged  Mr.  Schultz  with  a  strip  of  canvas ; 
then  he  tied  his  hands  behind  him  and  bound  him  at 
ankle  and  knee  with  the  short  lengths  of  signal  halyard. 
As  a  final  attention  he  "frisked"  the  mate  and  removed 
his  keys  and  a  heavy  automatic  pistol. 

"Lie  there  now,  me  jewel,"  he  said,  and  trotted  out 
to  the  starboard  end  of  the  bridge,  whistling  shrilly 
"God  Save  the  King."  When  the  swift  patter  of  feet 
along  the  deck  warned  him  that  the  steward  was  com 
ing,  he  walked  back  amidships  and  opened  the  little  slid 
ing  trap  in  the  roof  of  the  pilot-house,  which  on  the 
Narcissus  was  set  just  below  the  bridge.  The  quarter 
master's  head  was  directly  beneath  the  trap.  "Oh-ho, 
me  laddybuck !"  Mr.  Reardon  murmured,  and  dropped 
his  padded  monkey  wrench  on  that  defenseless  head. 
Instantly  the  quartermaster  staggered  and  hung  limply 
to  the  wheel. 

"Bad  luck  to  me,  I'll  have  to  hit  ye  agin,"  Mr. 
Reardon  complained — and  did  it.  Then  he  slid  through 
the  trap  into  the  pilot-house,  steadied  the  wheel  with 
one  hand  and  unlocked  the  pilot-house  door  with  the 
other  to  admit  the  steward. 

"Strike  me  pink!"  that  astounded  functionary  ex 
claimed  as  he  gazed  at  the  quartermaster  lying  beside 
the  wheel. 

"I  will — if  ye  don't  take  howld  av  this  wheel  an'  do 
less  talkin',"  Mr.  Reardon  replied  evenly.  "Bring  her 
round  very  slowly,  me  lad,  an'  in  the  intherval  I'll 


118  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

wrap  up  me  little  Baby  Bunting  on  the  floor  forninst 

ye." 

When  the  quartermaster  had  been  duly  wrapped  a  la 
Mr.  Schultz  and  dragged  clear  of  the  wheel,  Mr. 
Reardon  returned  to  the  bridge  and  with  brazen  impu 
dence  set  the  handle  of  the  marine  telegraph  over  to  full 
speed  ahead.  He  hummed  "Colleen  Dhas  Cruthin 
Amoe"  as  with  a  light  heart  he  skipped  down  to  the 
galley  and  found  the  look-out  eating  bread  soaked  in 
coffee.  Mr.  Reardon  nodded  and  said  "Good  nicht, 
amigo"  for  his  voyages  had  taken  him  to  many  ports 
and  he  was  naturally  quick  at  picking  up  foreign  lan 
guages.  The  fellow,  concluding  Mr.  Reardon  desired  a 
cup  of  coffee  also,  turned  to  the  rack  to  get  him  a  cup. 

"How  dare  ye  ate  up  the  owners'  groceries  in  this 
shameful  manner?"  Mr.  Reardon  demanded.  "Do  ye 
not  get  enough  at  mess  that  ye  must  be  atin*  between 
meals?  Shame  on  you " 

One  tap  did  the  trick.  "  'Tis  a  black  way  to  repay  a 
kind  fought,"  Mr.  Reardon  observed  to  his  victim  as 
he  bound  and  gagged  him;  "but  war  is  war,  an*  a 
faint  heart  an'  a  weak  stomach  never  shtole  a  ship 
back  from  forty  German  pirates!" 

He  closed  the  galley  door  on  the  unfortunate  look 
out  and  climbed  up  on  the  boat  deck  to  get  Michael  J. 
Murphy  out  of  prison.  Cautiously  he  unlocked  the 
state-room  door  with  the  key  taken  from  Mr.  Schultz, 
and  the  skipper  came  forth.  Mr.  Reardon  led  him 
under  an  electric  light  and  gazed  upon  him  wonderingly. 

"Begorra,  Michael,  me  poor  lad,"  he  whispered,  "be 
the  look  av  the  white  face  of  you  I'm  thinkin'  ye  ought 
to  be  in  bed  instid  av  out  raisin'  ructions." 

"I'm  weak ;  I  have  a  fever,"  Murphy  replied.    "Still, 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  119 

half  that  fever  may  be  plain  lunatic  rage.     Did  you 
find  a  gun  on  the  mate?" 

"I  did.    Take  it,  Michael,  I'll  have  nothin'  to  do  wit' 

iit." 

The  skipper  grasped  the  weapon  eagerly.  "The  ship 
is  headed  due  west  undher  full  speed,"  Terence  ex 
plained,  uan'  the  mate,  the  quarter-master  an*  the  look 
out  have  all  received  evidence  av  me  affectionate  regard. 
Next !" 

"Von  Staden.  He  kicked  me  and  broke  my  ribs, 
Terence." 

"Wit'  the  greatest  joy  in  life,  Michael.  The  skut's 
busy  in  the  wireless  room." 

So  they  went  to  the  wireless  room.  Von  Staden  was 
taking  a  message  as  they  entered;  at  sound  of  their 
footsteps  he  turned  carelessly  and  found  himself  look 
ing  down  the  muzzle  of  the  captain's  automatic. 

"Will  ye  take  it  peaceably,  ye  gossoon,  or  must  I 
brain  ye  wit*  this  monkey  wrench?"  Mr.  Reardon 
queried  fiercely. 

"And  take  your  hand  off  that  key,  you  blackguard. 
No  S  O  S,"  Murphy  ordered. 

The  supercargo  stared  at  them  impudently.  "This," 
he  said  presently,  "is  one  of  those  inconceivable  con 
tingencies." 

"Your  early  education  was  neglected,  Dutchy.  How 
ever,  don't  complain  and  say  I  didn't  give  you  warn 
ing.  Terence !" 

"What  is  it,  Michael?" 

"All  well-regulated  ships  carry  a  few  sets  of  hand 
cuffs  and  leg  irons.  If  you  will  put  your  hand  in  my 
right  hip  pocket,  Terence,  lad,  you'll  find  a  pair  for 


120  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

present  emergencies.  They  were  in  my  desk  and  I  con 
cluded  to  bring  them  along." 

"An*  a  pious  fought  it  was,  Michael." 

So  they  handcuffed  Herr  August  Carl  von  Staden 
and  gagged  him,  after  which  Mr.  Reardon,  leaving  the 
skipper  to  guard  his  prisoner,  ran  round  to  his  own 
room  and  got  the  two  lengths  of  chain  and  the  pad 
locks.  When  he  returned,  Michael  J.  Murphy  kicked 
his  unwelcome  supercargo  to  the  mate's  store-room  and 
Mr.  Reardon  locked  him  in  among  the  paint  pots,  pipe, 
old  iron  and  other  odds  and  ends  which  accumulate 
in  a  mate's  store-room. 

They  went  next  to  the  door  of  the  forecastle.  It  was 
open — and,  what  was  better,  it  opened  inward.  Also,  it 
was  of  steel  with  a  stout  brass  ring  on  the  lock,  this 
ring  taking  the  place  of  what  on  a  landsman's  door 
would  have  been  a  knob. 

Terence  Reardon  and  Michael  J.  Murphy  listened. 
From  within  came  a  medley  of  gentle  sighs,  snores  and 
the  slow,  regular  breathing  of  sleeping  men.  Softly 
Mr.  Reardon  closed  the  door,  turned  the  ring  until 
the  latch  caught,  drew  a  section  of  chain  through  the 
ring  in  such  a  manner  as  to  prevent  the  latch  from 
being  released,  passed  the  ends  of  his  chain  round  the 
steel  handrail  along  the  front  of  the  forecastle  and 
padlocked  them  there. 

"Now,  thin,"  Mr.  Reardon  announced,  "that  takes 
care  av  the  carpenter,  the  bos'n,  four  seamen,  two 
waiters  an'  the  mess  bhoy.  Do  ye  wait  here  a  minute, 
Michael,  lad,  whilst  I  run  up  on  the  bridge  and  give 
that  unmintionable  Schultz  the  wanst  over." 

The  weak,  half -dead  Murphy  sat  down  on  the  hatch 
coaming  and  waited.  The  chief  was  away  about  ten 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

minutes  and  the  captain  was  on  the  point  of  investigat 
ing  when  Mr.  Reardon  appeared. 

"That  unfortunate  divil  had  come  to,  an*  was  lookin' 
an'  feelin'  cowld  whin  I  wint  up  on  the  bridge,"  he  ex 
plained,  "so  I  wint  to  me  room  an'  got  a  pair  av 
blankets  to  wrap  round  him  where  he  lay.  It's  wan 
thing  to  tap  a  man  on  the  head,  but  'tis  another  to  let 
him  catch  his  death  av  cowld." 

Captain  Murphy  smiled.  Ordinarily  he  would  have 
laughed  at  the  whimsical  Terence,  but  he  didn't  have  a 
good  laugh  left  in  him.  His  lung  was  hurting,  so  he 
suspected  an  abscess. 

They  returned  to  the  boat  deck,  and  with  his  rule 
Mr.  Reardon  carefully  measured  the  exact  distance 
between  the  ship's  rail  and  the  center  of  the  doors  of 
the  state-rooms  occupied  by  the  mates  and  assistant 
engineers.  This  detail  attended  to,  they  went  to  the 
carpenter's  little  shop  and  cut  two  scantlings  of  a 
length  to  correspond  to  the  measurements  taken,  and 
in  addition  Mr.  Reardon  prepared  some  thin  cleats  with 
countersunk  holes  for  the  insertion  of  screws.  He 
worked  very  leisurely,  and  it  was  eleven  o'clock  when 
he  had  everything  in  readiness. 

"There's  nothin'  to  do  now  until  midnight,  whin  the 
watch  in  the  ingine  room  is  changed,"  Mr.  Reardon 
suggested,  "so  lave  us  go  to  the  galley.  Wan  av  me 
brave  lads  is  in  there,  an'  if  he's  not  dead  intirely,  faith, 
I'm  thinkin'  I  might  injoy  a  cup  av  coffee!" 

So  they  went  to  the  galley  and  found  the  look-out 
glaring  at  them.  He  made  inarticulate  noises  behind 
his  gag,  so  Mr.  Reardon,  much  relieved,  found  seats 
for  each  of  them  and  poured  coffee.  Then  he  filled  his 
pipe,  crossed  his  right  leg  over  his  left  knee  and  puffed 


122  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

away.  He  was  the  speaking  likeness  of  Contentment. 
And  well  he  might  be. 

The  first  assistant  engineer  had  been  driving  the 
Narcissus  for  an  hour  at  full  speed  at  right  angles  to 
the  course  he  believed  she  was  pursuing.  He  would, 
being  totally  ignorant  of  the  change  of  masters,  con 
tinue  to  drive  her  at  full  speed  until  midnight,  when  he 
would  come  off  watch,  tired  and  sleepy,  and  go  straight 
to  his  state-room.  The  second  assistant  would  go 
direct  from  his  state-room  to  duty  in  the  engine-room 
and  continue  to  drive  the  Narcissus  at  full  speed 
until  four  o'clock,  and  inasmuch  as  it  would  be  quite 
dark  still  when  the  third  assistant  came  on  at  four 
o'clock  to  relieve  the  engineer  on  watch,  there  was 
not  the  slightest  doubt  in  the  minds  of  Murphy  and  the 
chief  but  that  the  deception  could  go  on  until  break 
fast.  However,  that  would  interfere  with  their  plans. 
Long  before  that  hour  the  men  locked  in  the  forecastle 
would  have  discovered  their  plight,  and  the  noise  of  the 
discovery  might  reach  below  decks  and  bring  up,  to  in 
vestigate,  just  a  few  more  husky  firemen  and  coal 
passers  than  even  the  redoubtable  Terence  Reardon 
could  hope  to  cope  with  successfully. 

"By  four  o'clock  we'll  be  more  than  fifty  miles  off  the 
course  Schultz  was  holding  her  on,"  the  captain  sug 
gested.  "In  all  likelihood  the  German  admiral  wire 
lessed  his  last  position  and  the  course  he  was  steering, 
and  von  Staden  gave  Schultz  his  course  accordingly." 

"Faith,  we're  not  a  moment  too  soon  at  that,"  Mr. 
Reardon  replied.  "Schultz  was  lookin'  for  searchlights 
whin  I  tapped  him.  Be  the  Toe  Nails  av  Moses  ye're 
right,  Michael.  We'll  be  so  far  off  that  course  be  day 
light  they  won't  even  see  our  shmoke.  D'ye  think  that 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

little  handful  av  bones,  Riggins,  can  manage  the 
until  we've  claned  up  the  ingine-room  gang?     We  can 
relieve  him  wit'  wan  av  the  Chinamen  then." 

"Tell  him  he'll  have  to  stick  it  out.  And  by  the  way, 
Terence,  come  to  think  of  it,  you  had  better  run  for 
ward  and  remove  the  sidelights ;  then  unscrew  all  of  the 
incandescent  lamps  on  deck  until  the  contact  is  lost. 
You  can  screw  them  in  again  just  before  the  watch  is 
changed,  so  they  won't  suspect  anything,  and  unscrew 
them  again  after  we  have  the  watch  under  lock  and  key. 
The  fleet  may  be  too  far  away  to  see  our  smoke  by  day 
light,  but  they  may  be  close  enough  to  see  our  lights 
to-night !  Tell  Riggins  to  darken  the  pilot-house.  The 
binnacle  light  is  enough  to  keep  him  company." 

"Thrue  for  ye,"  Terence  replied,  and  hurried  away 
to  carry  out  Murphy's  instructions. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

[At  twelve  o'clock  the  second  assistant  engineer, 
hurrying  along  the  deck  to  relieve  the  first  assistant 
on  watch,  found  Mr.  Reardon  leaning  over  the  rail 
meditatively  puffing  his  old  briar  pipe.  In  answer  to 
the  former's  query  as  to  what  kept  the  chief  up  so 
late,  the  latter  replied  that  he  was  burning  sulphur  in 
his  room  to  kill  bedbugs. 

"The  good  Lord  forgive  me  the  lie,"  he  prayed  when 
a  few  minutes  later  he  was  called  upon  by  the  first 
assistant,  hurrying  off  watch,  to  repeat  the  same  tale. 

The  first  assistant  and  his  watch  had  a  shower-bath 
and  turned  in.  They  were  not  interested  in  the  work 
ings  of  the  deck  department  in  the  dark ;  they  could  not 
know  that  the  vessel's  course  had/ been  changed;  they 
thought  only  of  getting  to  sleep.  Mr.  Reardon  waited 
until  one-thirty  A.  M.  to  provide  against  possible 
sleepless  ones,  and  then  crept  aft  on  velvet  feet.  The 
Narcissus  had  very  commodious  quarters  in  her  stern, 
where  her  coolie  crew  had  been  housed  in  the  days  when 
she  ran  in  the  China  trade;  and  when  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company  took  her  over  these  quarters  had 
been  fitted  up  to  accommodate  the  engine  room  crew. 
In  the  same  manner,  therefore,  that  he  had  imprisoned 
the  men  of  the  deck  department  in  the  forecastle,  Mr. 
Reardon  now  proceeded  to  imprison  the  men  of  the 
engine  department  in  the  sterncastle.  This  delicate 
mission  accomplished,  he  went  up  top-side  and  measured 

124 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  125 

the  diameter  of  the  ventilators,  in  order  to  make 
certain  that  the  thinnest  of  his  German  canaries  could 
not  fly  the  cage  via  that  difficult  route.  Having  satis 
fied  himself  that  he  had  no  need  to  worry  on  this  score, 
he  made  his  way  forward  again. 

"Well,  Michael,  me  poor  lad,"  he  announced  as  he 
rejoined  the  skipper,  "1*11  tell  you  wan  thing — an'  it 
isn't  two.  The  crew  av  the  Narcissus  off  watch  at  this 
minute  will  never  come  on  watch  ag'in — in  the  Nar 
cissus" 

The  skipper  smiled  wanly.  "Fm  sorry  you  must  take 
all  the  risks  and  do  all  the  work,  Terence,"  he  replied. 

"Gwan  wit'  ye,  Michael.  Sure  if  I  had  a  head  on 
me  like  you,  an'  a  college  edication  in  back  av  that 
ag'in,  I'd  be  out  playin'  golf  this  minute  wit'  Andhrew 
Carnegie  an'  Jawn  D.  Rockefeller — ayther  that,  or  I'd 
have  been  hung  for  walkin'  away  wit'  the  Treasury 
Buildin'." 

They  discussed  the  remaining  details  of  that  portion 
of  the  ship  cleaning  still  before  them.  "Remember, 
Terence,"  Mike  Murphy  warned  the  chief,  "when  the 
blow-off  comes  at  four  o'clock  and  the  uproar  com 
mences  fore  and  aft,  we  have  the  means  to  keep  them 
quiet.  I'll  go  forward  and  you  go  aft.  When  we 
threaten  to  throw  burning  sulphur  down  the  ventilators 
and  suffocate  them,  they'll  sing  soft  and  low!" 

Mr.  Reardon  chuckled.  "An'  Schultz  fought  I  was 
afther  bedbugs  whin  I  asked  the  shteward  for  the  sul 
phur,"  he  replied.  "Shtill  an'  all,  Michael,"  he  added, 
a  trifle  wistfully,  "I  could  wish  for  a  bit  more  excite 
ment,  considerm'  the  size  av  the  job." 

"Don't  worry,  Terry,  you  may  get  it  yet.  I'm  dizzy 
and  weak,  chief ;  I'm  fearful  I'll  not  be  able  to  last  out 


126  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

the  night — and  these  Germans  are  desperate.  Sup 
pose  we  go  forward  now,  while  I'm  able,  and  awaken 
Mr.  Henckel.  It's  high  time  he  relieved  Mr.  Schultz, 
and  he'll  be  waking  naturally  if  we  let  him  oversleep 
much  longer." 

The  subjugation  of  Mr.  Henckel  was  accomplished 
without  the  slightest  excitement  or  bloodshed.  Mr. 
Reardon  rapped  at  his  door  and  Mr.  Henckel  replied 
sleepily  in  German.  The  skipper  and  the  chief  merely 
lurked,  one  on  each  side  of  his  state-room  door,  until 
he  stepped  briskly  out;  whereupon  the  captain  jabbed 
him  with  the  gun  while  Mr.  Reardon  shook  the  monkey 
wrench  under  his  nose.  Indeed,  Mr.  Reardon  had  the 
gag  in  the  second  mate's  mouth  even  while  it  hung  open 
in  surprise.  They  bound  him  hand  and  foot,  and  Mr. 
Reardon  picked  him  up  and  tucked  him  gently  in  his 
berth,  for,  as  the  chief  remarked  to  him,  he  was  as 
safe  there  as  anywhere  and  far  more  comfortable,  al 
though  Mike  Murphy  objected  and  was  for  putting 
him  in  the  mate's  store-room  with  von  Staden,  whom 
they  had  put  in  the  dirtiest  and  most  unwholesome  spot 
aboard  the  Narcissus,  for  two  reasons:  In  the  first 
place,  he  had  kicked  Michael  J.  Murphy  and  shot  him 
through  the  shoulder;  and  in  the  second  place,  he  was 
the  cleanest  German  and  the  most  wholesome  pirate 
they  had  ever  seen,  and  they  figured  the  contrast  would 
annoy  him.  Mr.  Reardon,  however,  objected  to  this 
plan.  He  argued  that  von  Staden  would  be  glad  of 
Mr.  Henckel's  company,  and  was  it  not  their  original 
intention  to  keep  that  laddybuck  von  Staden  in  soli 
tary  confinement?  It  was.  They  closed  the  state-room 
door  on  Mr.  Henckel,  and  left  him  to  meditate  on  his 
sins  while  they  repaired  to  the  carpenter's  little  shop, 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

to  return  to  the  boat  deck  presently  with  the  scantlings 
and  cleats  Mr.  Reardon  had  prepared. 

With  the  scantling  the  chief  shored  up  the  doors 
to  the  state-room  occupied  respectively  at  the  time  by 
the  first  and  third  assistant  engineers ;  then  he  screwed 
the  cleats  into  place  at  top  and  bottom,  so  the  scant 
ling  could  not  slip.  Not  for  worlds  would  he  have  used 
a  hammer  to  nail  them  into  place,  for  that  would  have 
spoiled  the  surprise  for  the  objects  of  his  attentions. 
Throughout  the  entire  operation  he  was  as  silent  as  a 
burglar,  although  by  way  of  additional  precaution  the 
captain  stood  by  with  drawn  pistol. 

"Now  thin,  Michael,"  Mr.  Reardon  whispered  as  they 
pussy-footed  away,  "there  are  six  fine  Germans  below  in 
the  ingine  room,  an'  two  Irishmen  an'  half  an  English 
man  on  deck.  The  Chinee  cooks  don't  count,  for  sure 
the  poor  heathens  would  only  get  excited  and  turrn 
somebody  loose  if  we  asked  them  to  do  anything  desper 
ate.  And,  as  ye  know,  wan  good  Irishman — and  bad 
luck  to  the  man  that  says  I  am  not  that — can  keep 
a  hundhred  Germans  from  comin'  up  out  av  that  ingine 
room.  Go  to  yer  bed,  Michael,  an'  lie  down  until  I 
call  ye." 

"Better  take  this  automatic,"  Murphy  suggested, 
and  showed  him  how  to  use  it. 

But  Mr.  Reardon  resolutely  refused  to  abandon  his 
monkey  wrench,  although  he  consented  to  carry  the 
automatic  to  Riggins  in  the  pilot-house.  The  estimable 
Riggins  had  been  steering  a  somewhat  erratic  course, 
for  he  found  it  impossible  to  keep  his  eye  on  the  lubber's 
mark  while  the  bound  quartermaster  glared  balefully  at 
him  from  the  floor.  Indeed  Riggins  had  been  pondering 
his  fate  should  that  husky  Teuton  ever  get  the  upper 


128  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

hand  again ;  hence,  when  he  found  himself  in  a  state  of 
preparedness  and  was  informed  that  he  must  stick  by 
the  wheel  until  relieved,  the  prospect  did  not  awe  him 
in  the  least.  The  present  odds  were  counterbalanced 
by  the  strategic  position  held  by  the  minority,  and 
Riggins  was  content. 

On  his  way  back  to  his  state-room,  there  to  rest  until 
the  final  call  to  arms,  Michael  J.  Murphy  concluded  it 
would  be  well  to  search  the  quarters  of  the  second  mate 
and  Herr  von  Staden  for  contraband  of  war.  So  he 
did,  with  the  result  that  he  unearthed  in  von  Staden's 
room  the  rifle  and  revolver  which  belonged  to  the  Nar 
cissus,  and  under  the  second  mate's  pillow  he  found 
another  automatic  pistol.  He  confiscated  all  three 
weapons  by  right  of  discovery,  and  hid  the  rifle  in 
the  galley,  the  last  place  anybody  would  think  of  look 
ing  for  it. 

In  the  meantime  Mr.  Reardon  proceeded  further 
to  strengthen  his  position  by  closing  the  port  entrance 
to  the  engine  room  and  shoring  up  the  door  with  a  stout 
scantling,  cleat ed  at  top  and  bottom  to  hold  it  securely 
in  place.  Then  he  donned  Mr.  Schultz's  heavy  watch- 
coat,  dragged  round  from  the  lee  of  the  house  the  up 
holstered  easy-chair  Mrs.  Reardon  had  insisted  upon 
his  taking  to  sea  with  him  for  use  in  his  leisure  moments, 
placed  this  chair  on  deck  just  outside  the  starboard 
entrance  to  the  engine  room,  loaded  his  pipe,  laid  his 
trusty  monkey  wrench  across  his  knee  and  gave  himself 
up  to  the  contemplation  of  this  riot  we  call  life.  He 
resembled  a  cat  watching  beside  a  gopher  hole.  By 
half-past  three  o'clock  he  had  finished  figuring  out 
approximately  the  amount  of  money  Mrs.  Reardon 
would  have  in  the  Hibernia  Bank  at  the  end  of  five 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  129 

years — figuring  on  a  monthly  saving  of  fifty  dollars  and 
interest  compounded  at  the  rate  of  four  per  cent.  So, 
having  satisfied  himself  that  Johnny  would  yet  be  a  law 
yer  and  the  girls  learn  to  play  the  piano,  Mr.  Reardon 
heaved  a  sigh  and  reluctantly  went  to  call  Michael  J. 
Murphy  for  the  final  accounting. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

At  ten  minutes  to  four  Mr.  Uhl,  the  second  assist 
ant,  a  man  of  some  thirty  years  and  ordinarily 
possessed  of  a  disposition  as  placid  as  that  of  a  little 
Jersey  heifer,  ordered  one  of  his  firemen  to  go  and  call 
the  watch  to  relieve  them.  Mr.  Reardon,  his  monkey 
wrench  firmly  grasped  in  his  right  hand,  knew  that 
at  exactly  ten  minutes  to  four  Mr.  Uhl  would'issue  that 
order — so  he  was  on  the  spot  to  receive  the  fireman  as 
the  latter  came  leisurely  up  the  greasy  steel  stairway. 
As  the  fellow  emerged  on  deck  he  paused  to  wipe  his 
heated  brow  with  a  sweat  rag  and  draw  in  a  welcome 
breath  of  cool  fresh  air.  He  did  not  succeed  in  getting 
his  lungs  quite  full,  however,  for  Michael  J.  Murphy, 
lurking  beside  the  door,  thrust  the  barrel  of  his  gun  in 
the  fireman's  ribs,  effectually  curtailing  the  process  of 
respiration  practically  at  once.  From  the  other  side  of 
the  door  the  chief  engineer  stepped  out  and  wagged 
his  bludgeon  under  the  fireman's  nose. 

"Ach!"  Mr.  Reardon  coughed,  and  grimaced  pleas 
antly.  "Schmierkase  und  Sauerkraut,  ye  big  shtiff! 
Vat  wilse  du  haben,  eh?  Zwei  bier?  Damn  the 
weather,  as  Misther  Schultz  would  say." 

He  laid  his  finger  on  his  lips,  enjoining  silence;  then 
with  the  same  finger  he  pointed  sternly  onward,  and  the 
fireman  took  the  hint.  In  the  clear  space  aft  the 

130 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  131 

!  house  and  next  to  the  funnel  Mr.  Reardon  bound  and 
gagged  him  and  laid  him  tenderly  on  his  back  to  await 
developments . 

"Now  thin,  Michael,"  he  said  to  the  skipper,  "lave  us 

:, go  back  an'  see  can  we  catch  another.    At  four  o'clock, 

whin  this  lad  fails  to  return,  Misther  Uhl,  the  omad- 

ihaun,  will  sind  up  another  man  to  see  what  the  divil  ails 

;  the  firrst  man." 

And  it  was  even  so.     This  time  it  was  the  oiler. 
At  five  minutes  after  four  a  coal  passer  came  up  the 
stairs,  and  he  was  swearing  at  the  delay  in  being  re 
lieved.     Something  told  Mr.  Reardon  this  fellow  would 
imake  trouble,  so  without  warning  he  hit  the  coal  passer 
a  light  rap  "to  take  the  conceit  out  av  him."     Two 
j minutes  later  the  coal  passer  had  joined  his  fellows 
Ibeside  the  funnel. 

At  a  quarter  after  four  Mr.  Uhl  scratched  his  head 
and   said   something  very   explosive  in  German.      He 
started  up  the  stairs,  got  halfway  up — and  came  down. 
It  had  occurred  to  him  very  suddenly  that  three  men 
had  already  gone  up  the  stairs  and  had  failed  to  re 
turn.     He  called  a  fireman  and  gave  him  some  very  ex- 
isplicit  orders  in  German;  whereupon  the  man  disap- 
!  peared  in  the  shaft  alley.     Five  minutes  later  he  re- 
i  turned,  pop-eyed  with  excitement  and  the  bearer  of  a 
I  tale  that  caused  Mr.  Uhl  to  arch  his  blond  eyebrows 
|  and  murmur  dazedly  "So?" 

Ten  minutes  passed.      Mr.  Reardon  glanced  inter- 

i  rogatively  at  Michael  J.  Murphy.     "I  think  the  divils 

are  suspicious,"  he  whispered.     "We  should  have  had 

another  be  now.     Have  a  care  now,  Michael.     Whin 

j  they  come  they  come  wit'  a  rush  an' " 

A  pistol  shot  echoed  through  the  ship.     It  came  up 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

from  forward.  Three  more  followed  in  rapid  succession 
— a  scream — a  shout ! 

"May  the  divil  damn  me !"  Terence  Reardon  cried  in 
a  horrified  voice.  "I  clane  forgot  the  little  companion 
hatch  at  the  ind  av  the  shaft  alley.  They've  crawled 
down  the  shaft  alley  an'  up  on  deck  at  the  very  sterrn 
av  the  ship!" 

He  dashed  aft  towards  the  spot  where  his  prisoners 
were  laid  out  close  to  the  funnel.  As  he  turned  the 
corner  of  the  house  he  observed  that  the  electric  lamp 
which  he  had  so  carefully  screwed  out  of  its  socket 
had  been  screwed  in  again,  and  by  its  light  Terence 
beheld  no  less  a  person  than  Mr.  Uhl  cutting  the  hal 
yards  that  bound  the  oiler.  The  fireman  had  already 
been  cut  loose,  but  the  potent  effects  of  Terence  Rear- 
don's  blow  with  the  wrench  still  remained ;  though  con 
scious,  the  man  was  unfit  for  combat.  The  coal  passer, 
evidently  the  first  man  to  be  rescued  by  Mr.  Uhl,  was 
standing  by. 

"Gower  that,  ye  divils !"  Mr.  Reardon  shrieked,  and 
charged,  swinging  his  monkey  wrench  with  all  his  horse 
power.  He  missed  his  first  stroke  at  Mr.  Uhl,  who 
very  deftly  stabbed  him  high  up  on  the  hip  for  his 
carelessness ;  then  the  chief  swung  again,  and  Mr.  Uhl 
was  out  of  the  fight. 

Not  so  the  big  coal  passer,  however.  He  planted 
in  Terence  Reardon's  face  as  pretty  a  left  and 
right — hay-makers  both — as  one  could  hope  to  see 
anywhere  outside  a  prize-ring;  whereupon  the  chief 
took  the  count  with  great  abruptness.  The  fireman 
reached  for  the  monkey  wrench — and  at  that  instant 
the  weak,  pale-faced  skipper  lurched  around  the  corner 
of  the  house  and  his  automatic  commenced  to  bark. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  133 

It  was  not  a  time  for  sentiment.  Michael  J.  Murphy 
glanced  once  at  Terence  Reardon's  bloody,  upturned 
face,  and  the  glazed  eyes  thrilled  him  with  horror. 
The  chief  engineer  was  dead !  That  meant  that  Mi 
chael  J.  Murphy  would  soon  be  dead,  too.  Well,  they 
had  fought  a  good  fight  and  lost,  so  nothing  now  re 
mained  for  him  to  do  save  slaughter  as  many  of  the 
enemy  as  possible  and  go  to  his  accounting  like  a  gentle- 
|man. 

He  turned  his  back  on  the  heap  of  bloody,  prostrate 
men,  stepped  over  a  little  rivulet  of  gore  that  ran 
rapidly  toward  the  scupper  as  the  ship  heeled  to  port, 
then  hesitated  and  started  back  as  she  heeled  to  star 
board.  He  was  vaguely  conscious  that  Mr.  Uhl  had 
shut  down  his  engines  before  coming  on  deck  and  that 
in  consequence  the  ship  had  lost  headway  and  was  be 
ginning  to  wallow.  In  his  weak  state  her  plunging 
caused  him  to  stagger  like  a  drunken  man.  As  he 
crossed  to  the  port  side  of  the  ship  and  gazed  down 
the  deck  he  noticed  that  the  incandescent  lamps  had 
all  been  screwed  back  in  their  sockets,  and  by  their 
brilliant  light  he  beheld  one  of  the  firemen  in  the  act 
of  removing  the  scantling  from  before  the  first  assist 
ant's  door.  Just  as  the  door  swung  open  the  captain 
fired,  but  evidently  missed,  for  the  man  sprang  nimbly 
into  the  state-room  for  safety. 

If  the  great  European  War  has  proved  nothing  else 
to  date,  it  has  demonstrated  one  comforting  thing 
about  the  German  people :  one  does  not  grow  impatient 
waiting  for  them  to  carry  the  fight  to  him.  The  fire 
man  had  no  sooner  entered  the  first  assistant's  state 
room  than  the  first  assistant  came  out.  He  was  wear 
ing  his  pajamas  and  a  piece  of  young  artillery,  and 


184  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

without  the  slightest  embarrassment  he  commenced 
shooting  at  Michael  J.  Murphy,  who,  not  to  be  outdone 
in  politeness  while  he  could  stand  and  see,  promptly 
returned  the  compliment. 

The  first  assistant's  first  shot  nipped  a  neat  little 
crescent  out  of  Mike  Murphy's  large  red  right  ear; 
his  second  ripped  clean  through  the  inside  of  the  skip 
per's  left  leg. 

"High  and  then  low,"  was  the  thought  that  ca 
pered  through  Mike  Murphy's  brain.  "God  grant  he 
don't  get  me  through  the  middle!  That's  what  comes 
of  fast  shooting — so  I  guess  I'll  go  slow." 

The  electric  lamp  over  his  head  was  shattered  and 
the  fragments  scattered  round  him  as  he  leaned  against 
the  corner  of  the  house  and  took  careful  aim  at  the 
first  assistant,  who  missed  his  next  shot  by  a  whisker 
and  died  in  his  tracks  with  two  cartridges  still  in  his 
gun. 

Dazedly  Michael  J.  Murphy  advanced  along  the 
deck,  stepped  over  the  body  and  entered  the  state-room. 
In  the  corner  the  fireman  crouched,  hands  uplifted  in 
token  of  surrender,  so  the  skipper  closed  the  door  and 
shored  it  up  again  with  the  scantling.  Mechanically 
he  picked  up  the  first  assistant's  huge  revolver,  broke 
it,  removed  the  cartridges  and  threw  them  overboard. 
Then  he  slipped  a  clip  of  seven  cartridges  into  his  auto 
matic  and  staggered  round  to  Mr.  Henckel's  state 
room. 

The  door  was  open.    The  bird  had  flown. 

Michael  J.  Murphy  went  in  and  sat  down  on  Mr. 
Henckel's  settee,  for  he  was  very  weak  and  dizzy ;  and 
at  least  nobody  could  shoot  at  him  in  there.  "Come, 
come,  Michael,"  he  croaked,  "no  going  out  this  voy- 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  135 

age.  You  have  work  ahead  of  you.  Pull  yourself  to 
gether  and  let  us  count  noses.  Now  then,  there  were 
two  firemen,  two  coal  passers,  one  oiler  and  Mr.  Uhl 
on  watch.  Terence  killed  Mr.  Uhl  with  the  monkey 
i  wrench,  I  killed  the  big  coal  passer,  I  think  I  killed 
ithe  oiler,  and  one  fireman  was  out  of  the  scrap  from 
ithe  beginning.  Then  I  killed  the  first  assistant  and 
locked  the  other  fireman  in  his  room.  That  leaves  Mr. 
IHenckel  and  a  coal  passer  to  be  reckoned  with.  Now 
| there  was  some  shooting  up  forward  and  somebody  was 
jhit.  That  means  Riggins  shot  somebody  or  somebody 
shot  Riggins.  The  second  mate  probably  went  forward 
to  let  the  men  out  of  the  forecastle,  while  the  fireman 
went  aft  to  let  the  engine-room  gang  out  of  the  stern- 
castle.  They  haven't  had  time  to  do  it  yet ;  they'll 
have  to  pry  those  rings  out  of  the  door  with  a  crowbar. 
I'll  go  aft  and  drive  the  fireman  forward;  when  I  have 
them  bunched  I'll  argue  with  them." 

He  arrived  at  the  break  of  the  house  and  looked 
down  on  the  deck  aft.  The  lights  had  been  turned 
on  and  a  man  was  just  raising  a  short  crowbar  to 
attack  the  door,  from  behind  which  came  shouts  and 
cries  of  anger  and  consternation. 

Mike  Murphy  rested  his  automatic  on  the  deck  rail 
and  fired  twice  at  the  man  in  front  of  the  sterncastle 
door.  The  fellow  fled  at  once  dashing  along  the  deck, 
zigzag  fashion,  to  distract  the  skipper's  aim,  and  dis 
appeared  in  the  dark  entrance  to  the  starboard  alley 
way.  So  Michael  J.  Murphy  slid  down  the  compan 
ion  and  followed  into  the  alleyway,  firing  two  shots 
for  luck  as  he  came. 

Scarcely  had  he  disappeared  into  the  murk  amid 
ships  when  Terence  Reardon  rolled  groggily  down  the 


136  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

companion  after  him.  Terence  had  no  means  of 
ascertaining  which  alleyway  the  skipper  had  charged 
into — and  he  did  not  care.  Blind  with  fury  he  lurched 
into  the  port  alleyway;  in  consequence  of  which 
the  fugitive,  fleeing  ahead  of  the  captain  down  the 
starboard  alleyway  and  thinking  to  turn  down  the 
port  alleyway  and  double  back  to  complete  his  labors 
at  the  sterncastle  door,  bumped  squarely  into  the  chief 
engineer. 

Mr.  Reardon  said  no  word,  but  wrapped  his  arms 
round  the  man  and  held  the  latter  close  to  his  breast. 

Thus  for  a  moment  they  stood,  gripping  each  other, 
each  wondering  whether  the  other  was  friend  or  foe. 

Then  Mr.  Reardon  decided  that  even  if  his  nose 
was  bloody  he  could  not  possibly  be  mistaken  in  the 
odor  of  a  fireman  just  come  off  watch.  He  had  lost 
his  monkey  wrench  in  the  melee  on  the  upper  deck — • 
the  defunct  Mr.  Uhl  having  fallen  upon  it,  thereby 
obscuring  it  from  Mr.  Reardon's  very  much  befogged 
vision,  but  his  soul  was  still  undaunted,  for  Mr.  Rear 
don,  in  common  with  most  chief  engineers  still  in  their 
prime,  firmly  believed  that  he  could  trounce  any  fire 
man  he  saw  fit  to  employ.  He  bit  suddenly  into  the 
fireman's  cheek  just  where  the  flesh  droops  in  a  fold 
over  the  lower  jaw,  and  was  fortunate  enough  to  se 
cure  a  grip  that  bade  fair  to  hold ;  then  he  crooked  his 
leg  at  the  back  of  his  opponent's  and  slowly  shoved  the 
fellow's  head  backward.  They  came  down  together, 
Mr.  Reardon  on  top,  content  for  once  to  hold  his 
man  helpless — and  rest — while  his  enemy's  shrieks  of 
pain  and  rage  resounded  through  the  ink-black  alley 
way. 

Michael  J.  Murphy  heard  that  uproar  and  halted. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  137 

After  listening  a  few  seconds  he  came  to  the  conclusion 
that  a  German  was  in  deep  distress,  and  that  hence  it 
was  no  part  of  his  business  to  interfere.  Besides,  he 
had  business  of  his  own  to  attend  to.  He  could  hear 
a  chain  rattling  up  forward,  and  while  it  was  too  dark 
to  see  who  or  what  was  doing  the  rattling,  he  found 
Mr.  Henckel  guilty  on  mere  suspicion,  and  fired  at  the 
sound;  whereupon  somebody  said  "Ach,  Gott!"  in  tones 
of  deep  disgust,  two  little  flashes  of  fire  cut  the  dark, 
and  two  bullets  whispered  of  death  as  they  flew  harm 
lessly  down  the  alleyway. 

Instantly  Mike  Murphy  returned  the  salute,  firing 
at  the  other's  flashes ;  then  he  fell  to  the  deck  and  rolled 
over  into  the  scupper  to  escape  the  return  fire,  which 
was  not  slow  in  coming. 

"I  wonder  where  the  devil  he  got  that  gun,"  was 
Murphy's  comment.  "Mr.  Uhl  must  have  had  it  in 
his  pocket  and  lent  it  to  him." 

There  was  profound  silence  within  the  forecastle, 
and  pending  the  destruction  of  his  attacker  Mr. 
Henckel  judged  it  imprudent  to  make  any  further  at 
tempts  at  a  delivery.  He  required  time  to  formulate 
a  plan  of  attack,  and  in  the  interim  he  desired  shelter. 
Mike  Murphy  heard  the  patter  of  feet,  the  patter  ceas 
ing  almost  as  soon  as  it  commenced — and  he  smiled 
grimly. 

"He's  hiding,"  the  captain  soliloquized.  "Now, 
where  would  I  take  shelter  if  I  were  in  his  fix?  Why, 
back  of  the  hatch-coaming,  of  course — or  the  winch." 
He  had  a  sudden  inspiration  and  called  aloud: 

"Riggins !  Riggins  !  Answer  me,  Riggins.  This  is 
Captain  Murphy  calling  you." 


138  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"  'Ere,  sir,"  came  the  voice  of  Riggins  from  the  pilot 
house  above.  The  voice  was  very  weak. 

"Climb  out  of  the  pilot-house,  Riggins,  to  the 
bridge,  turn  on  the  searchlight  and  bend  it  down  here 
on  the  deck  till  I  get  a  shot  at  this  scoundrel.  Don't 
be  afraid  of  him,  Riggins.  It's  Henckel  and  he  can't 
shoot  for  beans.  Get  the  light  fair  on  him  and  keep  it 
on  him;  it'll  blind  him  and  he  won't  be  able  to  shoot 
you." 

"The  dirty  dawg!"  snarled  Riggins  wearily.  "  'E 
come  up  on  the  bridge  a  while — ago — an'  I  drove  'im 
off — but  'e  plugged  me,  sir — through  the  guts,  sir — an' 
me  a  married  man!  Wot  in  'ell'll  my  ol'  woman — 
say " 

And  that  was  the  last  word  Riggins  ever  spoke* 
True,  he  managed  to  crawl  out  of  the  pilot-house  and 
up  the  short  companion  to  the  bridge;  he  reached  the 
searchlight,  and  while  Mr.  Henckel  and  Mike  Murphy 
swapped  shots  below  him  he  turned  on  the  switch. 

"Bend  it  on  the  deck,  Riggins.  On  the  deck,  my 
bully,  on  the  deck,"  Mike  Murphy  pleaded  as  the  great 
beam  of  white  light  shot  skyward  and  remained  there ; 
nor  could  all  of  Murphy's  pleading  induce  Riggins  to 
bend  it  on  the  deck,  for  Riggins  was  lying  dead  beside 
the  searchlight,  while  ten  miles  away  an  officer  on  the 
flying  bridge  of  H.M.S.  Panther  watched  that  finger  of 
light  pointing  and  beckoning  with  each  roll  of  the  ship. 

"Something  awf'lly  queer,  what?"  he  commented 
when  reporting  it  to  his  superior. 

"Rather,"  the  superior  replied  laconically.  "It  can't 
be  the  Dresden  and  neither  is  it  one  of  ours.  We'll 
skip  over  and  have  a  look  at  her,  Reggie,  my  son." 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Michael  J.  Murphy  had  two  shots  left  in  his  auto 
matic,  and  he  was  saving  those  for  daylight  and  Mr. 
Henckel's  rush,  when  a  searchlight  came  flickering  and 
feeling  its  way  across  the  dark  waters.  Slowly,  slowly 
it  lifted  and  rested  on  the  big  blunt  bows  of  the  Nar 
cissus,  hovered  there  a  few  seconds  and  came  slowly 
aft,  and  as  it  lighted  up  the  main  deck  Mr.  Henckel 
rose  from  behind  the  hatch-coaming. 

"Deutschland  uber  Attest"  he  yelled  joyously — and 
rushed. 

Terence  Reardon,  having  pounded  his  firemen  into 
insensibility,  had  crept  down  the  port  alleyway,  and, 
unknown  to  Captain  Murphy  and  Mr.  Henckel,  he  had, 
from  the  opposite  side  of  the  deck,  watched  the  flashes 
of  their  pistols  as  they  fired  at  each  other. 

"I'll  have  to  flank  that  fella  an'  put  a  shtop  to  this 
nonsense,"  Mr.  Reardon  decided  presently,  and  forth 
with  crept  across  the  deck  on  his  hands  and  knees  until 
he  reached  the  hatch-coaming.  Mr.  Henckel  lurked 
just  round  the  other  corner  of  the  coaming,  so  close 
Mr.  Reardon  could  hear  him  breathing.  And  there  the 
crafty  chief  had  waited  until  Mr.  Henckel  rose  for  his 
charge — whereupon  Mr.  Reardon  rose  also. 

"Ireland  upper  always,  ye  vagabone !"  he  yelled,  and 
launched  himself  at  Mr.  Henckel's  knees.  It  was  a 
perfect  tackle  and  the  second  mate  went  down  heavily. 

In  an  emergency  such  as  the  present  all  Terence 

139 


140  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Reardon  asked  was  good  fighting  light.  Fighting  in 
the  dark  distressed  him,  he  discovered,  for  while  polish 
ing  off  the  fireman  in  the  black  alleyway  he  had  missed 
one  punch  at  the  fellow's  head,  and  had  been  reminded 
to  his  sorrow  and  the  ruin  of  his  knuckles,  that  the  deck 
of  the  Narcissus  was  of  good  Norway  pine.  However, 
H.M.S.  Panther  was  scarcely  three  cable  lengths  dis 
tant  now,  and  the  officer  on  her  flying  bridge  could  see 
that  some  sort  of  a  jolly  row  was  in  progress  on  the 
deck  of  the  Narcissus;  so  he  kept  the  searchlight  on 
the  combatants  while  Mr.  Reardon  bent  Mr.  Henckel's 
back  over  the  hatch-coaming,  took  his  automatic  away 
from  him,  and  proceeded  to  take  a  cast  of  the  mate's 
features  in  the  vulcanite  butt  of  the  weapon.  And 
vulcanite  is  far  from  soft ! 

When  Terence  Reardon  had  completed  his  self- 
appointed  task  he  stood  up,  hitched  his  dungarees,  spat 
blood  on  the  deck,  and  stood  waving  from  side  to  side 
like  a  dancing  bear.  His  face  was  unrecognizable;  his 
dungarees,  so  neat  and  clean  when  he  donned  them  the 
night  before,  were  now  one  vast  smear  of  red,  and  he 
grinned  horribly,  for  he  was  war  mad ! 

"Next!"  he  croaked,  and  turned  to  the  master  for 
orders. 

But  Michael  Joseph  Murphy  was  out  of  the  fight. 
He  lay  prone  on  the  deck,  conscious  but  helpless,  and 
because  his  broken  rib  was  tickling  his  lung  the  froth 
on  his  lips  bore  a  little  tinge  of  pink.  Only  his  eyes 
moved — and  they  smiled  at  Terence  Reardon  as  the 
triumphant  exiles  of  Erin  faced  each  other. 

Terence  Reardon  turned  and  shook  his  battered  fists 
full  into  the  rays  of  the  searchlight.  He  was  mag- 
jnificent  for  one  brief  instant;  then  the  war-madness 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  141 

left  him,  and  again  he  was  plain,  faithful,  whimsical, 
capable,  honest  Terence  P.  Reardon,  chief  engineer  of 
the  S.S.  Narcissus,  who  considered  it  a  pleasure  to  dis 
course  on  the  fairies  when  he  had  nothing  more  im 
portant  to  do.  Now  that  the  fight  was  over  and  the 
German  fleet  had  overhauled  them  at  last,  he  had  time 
to  think  of  Mrs.  Reardon  and  the  children  and  his  best 
job  gone  for  ever — tossed  into  the  discard  with  his 
honor  as  a  faithful  servant. 

He  sat  down  very  suddenly  on  the  hatch-coaming 
and  covered  his  terrible  face  with  his  terrible  hands. 

"Ah,  Norah!  Norah!"  he  cried — and  sobbed  as  if 
his  heart  must  break. 


CHAPTER  XX 

When  Captain  the  Hon.  Desmond  O'Hara,  of  H.M.S. 
Panther,  boarded  the  steamer  Narcissus  via  the  Jacob's 
ladder  Mr.  Reardon  hove  overside  at  his  command,  he 
paused  a  moment,  balanced  on  the  ship's  rail,  and 
stared. 

"My  word !"  he  said,  and  leaped  to  the  deck,  to  make 
room  for  a  pink-and-white  middy.  The  pink-and-white 
one  stared  and  said  "My  aunt !"  Then  he,  too,  leaped 
to  the  deck,  and  a  stocky  cockney  blue-jacket  poked 
his  nose  over  the  rail. 

"Damn  my  eyes !"  said  this  individual.  "  'Ere's  a 
bloomin'  mess !" 

"Who  is  that  person?"  Captain  Desmond  O'Hara 
demanded,  pointing  to  the  semiconscious  Mr.  Henckel, 
who  was  moaning  and  saying  things  in  his  mother 
tongue. 

"That,"  said  Mr.  Reardon  with  a  familiar  wink, 
"was  a  fine,  decent  Gerrman  until  I  operated  on  him!" 

"So  I  observed.     And  who  might  you  be?" 

"Me  name  is  Terence  P.  Reardon,  an'  I'm  the  chief 
engineer  av  the  United  Shtates  steamer  Narcissus,  av 
San  Francisco." 

"Ah!    An  Irish- American,  eh?" 

Mr.  Reardon  looked  down  at  the  deck,  smiled  a 
cunning  little  smile  and  looked  up  at  Captain  O'Hara. 
"Well,  sor,"  he  declared,  "I  had  me  hyphen  wit'  me 

142 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  143 

whin  I  shipped ;  as  late  as  yestherd'y  af thernoon  'twas 
in  good  worrkin'  ordher;  but  what  wit'  the  exertion  av 
chasin'  our  Gerrman  crew  round  the  decks,  faith  I've 
lost  me  hyphen,  an'  I'm  thinkin'  the  skipper's  lost  his 
too.  That's  him  forninst  ye.  For  the  prisent  he's  in 
dhrydock  awaitin'  repairs,  which  leaves  me  in  command 
av  the  ship.  And  since  he's  in  no  condition  to  go  to 
his  shtate-room  an'  unlock  the  ship's  safe,  an'  sorra 
wan  av  me  knows  the  combination,  the  divil  a  look  will 
ye  have  at  our  papers.  I'll  save  time  an'  throuble  for 
us  all  be  tellin'  ye  now  that  we've  ten  t'ousand  tons  av 
soft  coal  undher  deck,  that  we  cleared  from  Norfolk, 
Virginia,  for  Manila  or  Batavia,  Pernarnbuco  for 
ordhers,  an'  that  we're  a  couple  av  t'ousand  miles  off 
our  course.  So  confiscate  the  ship  an'  be  damned  to 
ye!  Only  I'm  hopin'  ye'll  not  be  above  takin'  a  bit  av 
advice  from  wan  who  knows.  There's  a  Gerrman  fleet 
not  far  off,  an'  if  ye  shtop  to  monkey  wit'  us,  faith  ye 
may  live  to  regret  it — an'  ye  may  not." 

Captain  the  Hon.  Desmond  O'Hara  smiled  sweetly. 
"Divil  a  fear,"  he  said,  in  no  way  cast  down.  "We  met 
the  beggars  off  the  Falklands  yesterday  and  sunk  them 
all  but  the  Dresden.  She  slipped  away  from  us  in  the 
dark,  making  for  the  mainland,  and  we  were  looking 
for  her  when  we  saw  your  searchlight  cutting  up  such 
queer  didos,  so  the  Panther  dropped  behind  to  investi 
gate.  Had  it  not  been  for  your  searchlight  we  would 
have  missed  you." 

"An'  be  the  same  token  a  little  dead  Englishman 
signalled  ye."  Mr.  Reardon  gave  another  hitch  to  his 
dungarees.  "Sor,"  he  said  doggedly,  "I  never  fought 
I'd  live  to  see  the  day  I'd  want  to  cheer  a  British 
victh'ry — but  I  do."  He  glanced  down  at  his  right 


144  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

hand  and  shook  his  head.  "Englishmen  that  ye  are,'* 
he  continued,  "I'll  not  offer  ye  a  hand  like  that — much 
as  I  want  to  shake  hands  wit*  ye." 

"Faith,  don't  let  that  worry  you,  Mr.  Reardon.  I'm 
not  an  Englishman." 

"In  the  divil's  name,  you're  not  an — an " 

"I'm  an  Irishman!     My  name  is  Desmond  O'Hara." 

Mr.  Reardon  was  fully  aware  that  here  was  a  grand 
specimen  of  the  kind  of  Irish  he  had  been  taught  to 
despise — the  Irish  that  take  the  king's  shilling,  the 
gentlemen  Irish  that  lead  the  king's  cockneys  into  bat 
tle.  And  yet,  strange  to  say,  no  thought  of  that 
entered  his  head  now.  He  stepped  up  to  Captain 
O'Hara,  looked  round  cautiously  as  if  expecting  to  be 
overheard,  winked  knowingly  and  whispered,  as  he 
jerked  a  significant  thumb  toward  the  unhappy  Mr. 
Henckel:  "Sure  'tis  the  likes  av  us  that  can  take  the 
measure  av  the  likes  av  thim." 

"It  is,"  replied  Captain  O'Hara,  and  reached  for 
Terry  Reardon's  awful  hand.  "It  is !" 

Together  they  lifted  Michael  J.  Murphy  into  a 
bos'n's  chair,  the  jackies  unslung  a  cargo  derrick,  Mr. 
Reardon  went  to  the  winch,  and  the  skipper  was 
hoisted  overside  into  the  Panther's  boat  and  taken 
aboard  the  warship  for  medical  attention.  Just  before 
Mr.  Reardon  hoisted  him  he  drew  the  chief's  ear  down 
to  his  lips. 

"About  von  Staden,"  he  whispered.  "I  thought  I 
wanted  to  see  him  hung.  Legally  he's  a  pirate;  but, 
Terence,  he  was  raised  wrong;  you  know,  Terence — 
Deutschland  uber  Alles.  These  Dutch  devils  thought 
it  was  all  right  to  steal  our  ship — national  necessity, 
you  know.  Let  von  Staden  out  of  the  mate's  store- 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  145 

room  and  tell  him  the  English  have  us — that  his  fleet 
is  gone.  Then  turn  your  back  on  him,  Terence." 

Mr.  Reardon  followed  orders.  "Captain  Murphy 
ordhered  me  to  let  ye  out,"  he  explained  to  the  super 
cargo,  "an'  towld  me  to  turrn  me  back  on  ye." 

"Please  thank  him  for  me,"  von  Staden  replied 
gently.  "I  scarcely  expected  such  kindness  at  his 
hands.  You  may  turn  your  back  now,  Mr.  Reardon." 

So  Mr.  Reardon  turned  his  back,  and,  despite  the 
rush  of  the  British  jackies  to  stop  him,  Herr  August 
Carl  von  Staden  reached  the  rail.  "Deutschland  uber 
AUes!"  he  shouted  defiantly — and  jumped.  He  did 
not  come  up. 

Captain  the  Hon.  Desmond  O'Hara  removed  his  cap. 
"They  die  so  infernally  well,"  he  said  presently,  "one 
hates  to  fight  them — individually.  Yesterday  the 
Niirnberg  fell  to  us.  We  outranged  her,  and  when  she 
was  out  of  action  and  sinking,  with  her  men  swimming 
and  drowning  all  round  her,  the  Panther  was  stripped 
of  life  preservers  in  two  minutes.  Some  of  my  lads 
Went  overboard  to  help  the  Boche." 

Mr.  Reardon  remembered  he  had  wrapped  waste 
round  the  head  of  his  monkey  wrench  and  curtailed  his 
indicated  horse-power  when  tapping  individuals ;  yet, 
when  he  fought  them  in  bulk,  with  what  savage  joy 
had  he  struck  down  Mr.  Uhl,  a  poor,  inoffensive  devil 
and  the  victim  of  a  false  ideal  of  national  honor! 
Mr.  Reardon  was  quite  sure  he  despised  Englishmen; 
yet  the  tears  came  to  his  eyes  when  the  jackies  carried 
poor  little  Riggins  away  from  the  searchlight,  and  he 
prayed  for  eternal  rest  for  the  soul  of  his  late  as 
sistants,  for  he  had  learned  in  a  night,  as  he  fought 
with  tooth  and  fist  and  monkey  wrench,  what  those  who 


146  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

fight  with  tongue  and  typewriter  will  never  learn — that 
racial  and  religious  animosities  are  just  a  pitiful 
human  bugaboo — in  bulk.  Only  that  valiant  minority 
that  sheds  its  blood  for  the  heartless  majority  can 
ever  know  this  great  truth — and  the  pity  of  it — that 
warriors  never  hate  each  other. 
They  are  too  generous  for  that. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

Capt.  Matt  Peasley,  with  his  heart  in  his  throat, 
called  up  the  British  consul  at  San  Francisco.  Cappy 
Ricks,  looking  very  pale  and  unhappy,  sagged  in  his 
chair,  while  Mr.  Skinner  stood  by,  gnawing  his  nails 
and  looking  as  if  he  would  relish  being  kicked  from 
one  end  of  California  Street  to  the  other. 

"Hullo!"  Matt  Peasley  began.  Cappy  Ricks  shud 
dered  and  closed  his  eyes.  "Is  this  the  British  consul's 
office?  .  .  .  This  is  Captain  Peasley,  of  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company  .  .  .  Yes  .  .  .  About  our 
steamer  Narcissus  .  .  .  You  say  the  consul  is  on  his 
way  down  to  our  office  .  .  .  Thank  you  .  .  .  Good 
bye." 

Cappy  Ricks  sighed  like  an  old  air-compressor.  "I 
hope  I  live  till  he  gets  here,"  he  declared  feebly.  "De 
liberate  race,  the  British.  No  pep.  Never  get  any 
where  in  a  hurry." 

As  if  to  give  the  lie  to  Cappy's  criticisms,  the  British 
consul  was  admitted  at  that  moment. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  announced  as  the  heart-broken  trio 
gathered  round  him,  "I  have  some  very  grave  news  for 
you."  His  voice  was  vaguely  reminiscent  of  that  of 
the  foreman  in  a  quarry  who  calls  upon  a  lady  to 
inform  her  that  her  husband  has  just  been  caught  in  a 
premature  blast  and  that  the  boys  will  be  up  with  the 
pieces  directly.  "Your  steamer  Narcissus,  loaded  with 
ten  thousand  tons  of  coal,  has  been  captured  a  hundred 

147 


148  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

miles  north-east  of  the  Falkland  Islands  by  His 
Majesty's  cruiser  Panther.  In  view  of  your  vessel's 
clearance " 

A  low  moan  broke  from  Gappy  Ricks. 

"Tightwad!"  he  reviled.  "Old  Alden  P.  Tightwad, 
the  prince  of  misers !  He  thought  he'd  add  a  couple  of 
ten-dollar  bills  to  his  roll,  so  he  encouraged  his  skipper 
to  hire  a  lot  of  interned  Germans  to  work  his  ships  in 
neutral  trade!  He  was  penny-wise  and  pound-foolish, 
so  he  cut  out  the  wireless  to  save  a  miserable  hundred 
and  forty  dollars  a  month.  Bids  are  invited  for  the 
privilege  of  killing  the  damned  old  fool — Skinner! 
What  are  you  looking  at?" 

"N-n-nothing !"  stammered  Mr.  Skinner. 

"I  won't  be  looked  at  that  way,  Skinner.  I  have 
my  faults,  I  know " 

"Ssshh !"  Matt  Peasley  interrupted. 

"And  I  won't  be  'sshh-ed'  at  either.  I  lost  the  ship. 
I  admit  it.  I  O.K.'d  the  charter,  and  Murphy  did  his 
best  to  save  her  for  us  and  couldn't.  I'm  the  goat,  but 
if  it  busts  me  I'll  reimburse  you  two  boys  for  every  cent 
you  have  lost  through  my  carelessness " 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Ricks,"  the  consul  inter 
rupted.  "Pray  permit  me  to  proceed.  The  circum 
stances  attending  this  case  are  so  very  unusual " 

"My  dear  Mister  British  Consul,  I  shall  not  argue 
the  matter  with  you.  You're  too  bally  deliberate,  and, 
besides,  what's  the  use?  The  ship  is  gone.  Let  her  go. 
We'll  build  another  twice  as  big.  Of  course  I  could 
give  you  an  excuse,  but  if  I  did  you'd  think  I  was  old 
Nick  Carter  come  to  life.  We'll  just  have  to  take  it 
up  through  our  State  Department,  present  our  alibi, 
and  try  to  win  her  back  in  the  prize  court." 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  149 

"She  will  never  be  sent  to  a  prize  court,  Mr.  Ricks. 
It  doesn't  require  a  prize  court  to  decide  the  case  of 
the  steamer  Narcissus.  The  evidence  is  too  overwhelm 
ing.  There  could  not  possibly  be  a  reversal  of  the 
decision  of  our  admiral." 

Mr.  Skinner  sat  down  suddenly  to  keep  from  falling 
down.  The  consul  continued:  "The  commander  of  the 
Panther,  Captain  Desmond  O'Hara — by  the  way,  an 
old  schoolmate  of  mine — has  sent  me  a  long  private 
report  on  the  affair;  by  wireless,  of  course,  and  in  code. 
It  appears  that  in  Pernambuco  harbor  your  German 
crew  overpowered  the  captain " 

"What?"  cried  Cappy,  Matt  and  Skinner  in  chorus. 
"You  admit  that?" 

"We  do,  Mr.  Ricks.  And  last  night  your  chief  en 
gineer,  Mr.  Terence  Reardon,  with  the  aid  of  the 
steward,  one  Riggins — a  British  subject  and  unfor 
tunately  killed  in  the  affray — and  Captain  Murphy 
overpowered  the  German  crew " 

"Oh,  Mr.  Ricks !"  gasped  Skinner. 

"Oh,  Matt !"  shrilled  Cappy  Ricks. 

"Oh,  Cappy !"  yelled  Matt  Peasley. 

"Oh,  nonsense,"  laughed  the  British  consul.  "They 
stole  her  back,  gentlemen,  and  when  Captain  O'Hara 
found  her  rolling  helplessly  and  boarded  her,  she  was 
a  shambles.  Dead  men  tell  no  tales,  Mr.  Ricks — yet  it 
was  impossible  for  any  fair-minded  man  to  doubt  the 
testimony  of  the  dead  men  aboard  your  Narcissus! 
Her  killed,  wounded  and  prisoners  formed  a  perfect 
alibi.  In  the  meantime,  Mr.  Reardon  and  Captain 
Murphy  are  aboard  the  Panther,  receiving  medical  at 
tention,  and  will  be  returned  to  duty  in  a  few  weeks; 


150  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

the  Narcissus  is  proceeding  to  meet  the  other  ships  of 
our  fleet.     She  will  coal  them  at  sea." 

"Then  you've  confiscated  her  cargo?"  Matt  Peasley 
demanded. 

"We  should  worry  about  the  cargo  if  they  give  us 
back  our  vessel,"  Gappy  Ricks  declared  happily.  "We 
haven't  received  our  freight  money,  of  course,  but  by 
the  time  I  get  through  with  the  charterers  they'll  pay 
the  freight  and  ask  no  questions  about  the  coal." 

"We  confiscated  it,  Mr.  Ricks,"  the  British  consul 
continued,  "for  the  reason  that  it  was  German  coal. 
The  supercargo  who  boarded  the  vessel  at  Pernambuco 
told  your  captain  his  people  had  paid  cash  for  it  to 
the  charterers.  But  we're  going  to  give  you  back  your 
vessel  because  we  haven't  any  moral  right  to  keep  her, 
since  her  owners  have  committed  no  breach  of  inter 
national  law.  The  supercargo  left  fifteen  thousand 
dollars  behind  him  when  he  jumped  overboard,  but 
Captain  O'Hara  declined  to  confiscate  that.  At  Cap 
tain  Murphy's  suggestion  it  will  be  forwarded  to  the 
widow  of  the  man  Riggins.  Captain  O'Hara  especially 
requested  that  I  call  upon  you  and  inform  you  that 
you  have  two  of  the  finest  Irishmen  in  the  world  to 
thank  for  your  ship." 

"Thank  you,  Mister  Consul.  By  the  way,  can  you 
reach  Captain  O'Hara  by  wireless?  If  you  can,  I 
should  be  glad  to  pay  for  a  message  if  you  will  send  it." 

"I  shall  be  delighted  indeed." 

"Then  tell  him  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company 
thanks  him  for  the  courtesy  of  his  message,  but  that  it 
does  not  agree  with  his  statement  that  we  have  two 
Irishmen  to  thank  for  our  ship.  We  think  we  have 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


151 


three!  I  know  the  Irish.  The  scoundrels  never  go 
back  on  each  other  in  a  fight." 

The  consul  laughed. 

"By  the  way,"  he  said,  as  he  took  up  his  hat  pre 
paratory  to  leaving,  "your  ship  is  now  equipped  with 
wireless — a  fine,  powerful  plant  such  as  they  use  in  the 
German  Navy.  The  supercargo  brought  it  aboard  at 
Pernambuco." 

Matt  Peasley,  the  Yankee,  came  to  life  at  that. 
"Has  that  been  confiscated,  too?"  he  queried. 

"No,  captain.  However,  we  have  confiscated  thai 
German  crew  of  yours " 

"Hallelujah!"  yelled  Cappy  Ricks. 

" and  loaned  you  a  crew  of  British  seamen  fr^ijt 

the  tramp  Surrey  Maid.  The  Scharnlwrst  torpedoed 
her  off  the  coast  of  Chile,  and  we  found  her  crew  « >n 
board  one  of  the  German  transports  when  we  capture^ 
them  after  the  fleet  was  destroyed.  You're  all  fix<wd 
up,  from  skipper  to  cabin  boy ': 

"Wireless  operator,  too  ?"  Matt  Peasley  cried.jl 

The  consul  nodded.  "He's  got  a  steady  job,"  1|,he 
youthful  president  declared,  and  turned  to  Cap;py 
Ricks  for  confirmation  of  this  edict.  But  Cappy,  /the 
pious  old  codger,  had  bowed  his  head  on  his  breast  .«ind 
they  heard  him  mutter: 

"O  Lord,  I  thank  Thee !  All  unworthy  as  I  am,  T_,ord, 
thou  loadest  me  with  favors — including  a  wireless 
plant,  free  gratis!" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

Long  after  the  British  consul  had  departed  Cappy 
Ricks  sat  alone  in  his  office,  dozing.  Presently  he  roused 
and  rang  for  Mr.  Skinner. 

"Skinner,"  he  said,  "Matt  reports  that  the  late  Rig- 
gins  made  an  allotment  of  his  wages  to  his  wife  when 
s  he  shipped  aboard  the  Narcissus?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

:j,  "Riggins's  wages  hereafter  shall  constitute  a  charge 
a/gainst  the  Narcissus  while  Mrs.  Riggins  lives  and 
/while  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  can  afford  to 
(give  up  seventy  dollars  every  month.  Attend  to  it, 
Skinner.  Another  thing,  Skinner." 

"Yes,  sir." 

|  "We  ought  to  do  something  for  Murphy  and  Rear- 
dtan.  Now  then,  Skinner,  you've  never  had  a  chance 
id  be  a  sport  heretofore,  but  you're  a  stockholder  in 
the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  now,  and  as  such 
I  >feel  that  I  should  not  use  my  position,  as  owner  of 
a  controlling  interest  in  the  stock  of  the  company,  to 
give  i.away  the  property  of  the  company  in  an  arbitrary 
fashi  on.  So  I'm  going  to  leave  it  up  to  you,  Skinner, 
to  sujAgest  what  we  shall  do  for  them.  I  believe  you 
will  agrhe  with  me  that  we  should  do  something  very 
handsome  Ijby  those  two  boys." 

"Quite  so;,  sir,  quite  so.  Well,  to  start  off  with,  Mr. 
Ricks,  I  thin^k  we  ought  to  pay  their  hospital  bills,  if 

152 


\ 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  153 

any.  Then  I  think  we  ought  to  give  each  of  them  a 
handsome  gold  watch,  suitably  engraved  and  with  a 
small  blue  star — sapphires,  you  know — set  in  the  front 
of  the  case." 

"You  feel  that  would  about  fill  the  bill,  eh,  Skinner?" 

"Well,  next  Christmas  I  think  we  ought  to  give  them 
each  a  month's  salary." 

"Hum!    You  do?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I  think  that  would  be  a  very  delicate 
thing  to  do." 

Cappy  sighed.  Poor  Skinner!  Victim  of  the  saving 
habit!  Decent  devil — didn't  mean  to  be  small,  but  just 
couldn't  help  it.  A  bush-leaguer — Skinner.  Never 
meant  for  big  company 

"In  addition "  Skinner  began. 

"Yes,  Skinner,  my  boy.  Go  on,  go  on,  old  horse. 
Now  then,  in  addition " 

"It  seems  like  the  wildest  extravagance,  Mr.  Ricks, 
but  those  men  have  fought  for  their  ship  and  I — re 
member,  Mr.  Ricks,  this  is  only  a  suggestion — I  think 

it  would  be  a  very — er — tactful  thing  to  do  to — 
er " 

"It'll  choke  him  before  he  gets  it  out,"  Cappy  so 
liloquized.  Aloud  he  said:  "Go  on,  Skinner,  my  dear 
boy.  Don't  be  afraid." 

"At  a  time  like  this,  when  freights  are  so  good  and 
vessel  property  pays  so  well,  it  seems  to  me — that  is, 
if  you  and  Matt  have  no  objection — that  we  ought  to 
give  Mike  and  Terence  a — er — a  little  piece  of  the 
Narcissus — the  ship — er — they  love — say — er — a — 
ten-thousand-dollar  interest — each " 

"God  bless  you,  Skinner !    You  came  through  at  last, 


154  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

didn't  you?     The  president  emeritus  agrees  with  you, 
Skinner,  and  it  is  so  ordered. 

"Now  skip  along  and  wireless  the  glad  news  to  Mike 
and  Terence.  Tell  them  when  they  have  the  coal  out 
to  proceed  to  Rio  and  load  manganese  ore." 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IN  due  course  Captain  Michael  J.  Murphy  and  Mr. 
Terence  Reardon  came  off  the  dry  dock,  the  sole 
visible  evidence  of  that  unrecorded  second  naval  en 
gagement  off  the  Falkland  Islands  being  a  slight  list 
to  starboard  on  the  part  of  the  Reardon  nose,  and  a 
notch  in  Murphy's  right  ear.  Mr.  Skinner  had  had 
a  local  jeweler  prepare  the  presentation  watches 
against  the  day  of  the  home-coming  of  the  warriors 
of  the  Blue  Star,  and  on  a  Saturday  night  Cappy 
gave  a  banquet  to  Mike  and  Terence,  and  every  em 
ployee  of  the  Ricks*  interests  who  could  possibly  at 
tend,  was  present  to  do  the  doughty  pair  honor  and 
cheer  when  the  awards  for  valor  were  duly  made  by 
Cappy  and  congratulatory  speeches  made  by  Mr. 
Skinner  and  Matt  Teasley.  It  was  such  a  gala  oc 
casion  that  Cappy  drank  three  cocktails,  battened 
down  by  a  glass  or  two  of  champagne,  and  as  a  result 
was  ill  for  two  days  thereafter.  When  he  recovered, 
he  announced  sadly  and  solemnly  that  he  was  about  to 
retire — forever;  that  nothing  of  a  business  nature 
should  ever  be  permitted  to  drag  him  back  into  the 
harness  again.  Then  he  bade  all  of  his  employees  a 
touching  farewell,  packed  his  golf  clubs,  and  disap 
peared  in  the  general  direction  of  Southern  California. 
He  was  away  so  long  that  eventually  even  the  skeptical 
Mr.  Skinner  commenced  to  wonder  if,  perchance,  the 

155 


156  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

age  of  miracles  had  not  yet  passed  and  Gappy  had 
really  retired. 

Alas!  On  the  morning  of  December  24th,  Cappy 
suddenly  appeared  at  the  office,  his  kindly  old  counte 
nance  aglow  like  a  sunrise  on  the  Alps.  Immediately 
he  cited  Mr.  Skinner  to  appear  with  the  payrolls  of 
all  of  the  Ricks  enterprises  and  show  what  cause,  if 
any,  existed,  why  there  should  not  be  a  general  whoop 
ing  up  of  salaries  to  the  deserving  all  along  the  line. 
The  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company  had  already 
declared  a  Christmas  dividend;  the  accounts  of  every 
ship  in  the  Blue  Star  fleet  had  been  made  up  to  date 
and  a  special  Christmas  dividend  declared,  and,  in 
accordance  with  ancient  custom,  Cappy  had  appeared 
to  devote  one  day  in  the  year  to  actual  labor.  Christ 
mas  dividend  checks  and  checks  covering  Christmas 
presents  to  his  employees  were  always  signed  by  him; 
it  was  his  way  of  letting  the  recipients  know  that,  al 
though  retired,  he  still  kept  a  wary  eye  on  his  affairs. 

He  had  writer's  cramp  by  the  time  he  finished,  but 
while  the  spending  frenzy  was  on  him  he  would  take  no 
rest ;  so  he  seized  a  pencil  and,  while  Mr.  Skinner  called 
off  the  names  of  the  deserving  and  the  length  of  time 
each  had  spent  in  the  Ricks  service,  Cappy  scrawled  a 
five,  a  ten  or  a  twenty  beside  each  name.  Thus,  in 
time,  they  came  to  the  first  name  on  the  Blue  Star 
pay  roll. 

"Matthew  Peasley,  president ;  salary,  ten  thousand^' 
dollars  a  year;  length  of  service,  four  months,"  Mr* 
Skinner  intoned.      "How   about   a   raise  for   Captain 
Matt?" 

Cappy  laid  down  his  pencil  and  looked  at  Skinner 
over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles.  ,  ' 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  157 

"Skinner,"  he  said  gravely,  "you're  only  drawing 
twelve  thousand  a  year,  and  you've  been  with  me 
twenty-five  years !  And  here  I'm  giving  this  boy  Matt 
ten  thousand  a  year  and  he's  been  on  the  pay  roll  only 
four  months.  Why,  it  isn't  fair!" 

"Remember,  he  was  three  years  in  the  Blue  Star 
ships  that " 

"Can't  consider  that  at  all  when  raising  salaries. 
The  salaries  of  ship's  officers  are  fixed  and  immutable 
anyhow,  and  when  considering  raises  for  my  employees 
I  can  take  into  consideration  only  the  length  of  time 
they've  been  directly  under  my  eye.  Cut  Matt's  salary 
to  five  thousand  a  year  and  let  him  grow  up  with  the 
business.  His  dividends  from  his  Ricks  L.  &  L.  and 
Blue  Star  stock  will  keep  him  going,  and  he  hasn't  any 
household  bills  to  keep  up.  He  and  Florry  live  with 
me,  and  I'm  the  goat." 

"I  fear  Matt  will  not  take  kindly  to  that  program, 
Mr.  Ricks — particularly  at  this  time,  when  every  ship 
in  the  off  shore  fleet  is  paying  for  herself  every  voyage." 

"Why?"  Cappy  demanded. 

"Well,"  Mr.  Skinner  replied  hesitatingly,  "perhaps 
I  have  no  business  to  tell  you  this,  because  the 
knowledge  came  to  me  quite  by  accident ;  but  the  fact 
of  the  matter  is,  Matt  is  going  to  build  himself  an 
auxiliary  schooner " 

"Good  news !"  Cappy  piped.  "That's  the  ticket  for 
soup !  An  auxiliary  schooner  with  semi-Diesel  engines, 
four  masts  and  about  a  million-foot  lumber  capacity 
would  be  a  mighty  good  investment  right  now.  Every 
yard  in  the  country  that  builds  steel  vessels  is  filled  up 
with  orders,  but  our  coast  shipyards  can  turn  out 
wooden  vessels  in  a  hurry;  and,  with  auxiliary  power, 


158  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

they'll  pay  five  hundred  per  cent  on  their  cost  before 
this  flurry  in  shipping,  due  to  the  war,  is  over.  I  don't 
care,  Skinner — provided  he  builds  a  ship  that's  big 
enough  to  go  foreign " 

"But  this  isn't  that  kind,"  Mr.  Skinner  interrupted. 

"No  other  kind  will  do,  Skinner." 

"This  is  to  be  a  schooner  yacht " 

"A  what !"  Gappy  shrilled. 

"A  yacht — eighty-five  feet  over  all " 

"Eighty-five  grandmothers !  Why,  what  the  devil 
does  that  boy  want  of  a  yacht?  How  much  money  does 
he  intend  to  put  into  her?" 

"I  do  not  know,  Mr.  Ricks ;  but  we  can  be  reasonably 
certain  of  one  thing;  Matt  Peasley  will  not  build  a 
cheap  boat.  She'll  have  a  lot  of  gewgaws  and  gadgets, 
teak  rail,  mahogany  joiner-work — at  the  very  least, 
she'll  cost  him  thirty  thousand  dollars." 

"Skinner,"  Gappy  declared  solemnly,  "he  might  as 
well  put  the  money  in  a  sack,  go  down  to  Clay  Street 
Wharf  and  throw  the  money  overboard!  The  other 
night  I  saw  a  couple  of  soldiers  having  a  pleasant  time 
in  a  shooting  gallery,  but  what  the  president  of  the 
Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  wants  with  a  thirty-' 
thousand-dollar  yacht  beats  my  time.  Why,  he  has 
more  than  thirty  good  vessels  to  play  with  all  week, 
and  yet  he  wants  a  yacht  for  Sunday!  Skinner,  my 
dear  boy,  that  is  wild,  wanton  extravagance." 

"Well,  I  dare  say  Matt  thinks  he  can  afford  the 
extravagance." 

"Skinner,  no  man  can  afford  it.  Extravagance  may 
reach  a  point  where  it  becomes  sinful.  And  I  say  it's 
a  crime  to  put  thirty  thousand  dollars  into  a  yacht 
when  the  same  thirty  thousand,  invested  in  a  good 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  159 

vessel,  will  yield  such  tremendous  returns.  Skinner, 
my  boy,  how  did  you  find  out  about  this  yacht  non 
sense?" 

"I  was  looking  through  Matt's  desk  for  a  letter  I 
had  given  him  to  read,  and  I  ran  across  the  plans. 
Thinking  they  were  Blue  Star  plans,  I  looked  them 
over;  there  was  a  letter  from  the  naval  architect  at 
tached " 

Gappy  threw  down  his  pencil. 

"By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,"  he  cried  in  deep 
disgust,  "I  thought  I  was  going  to  have  a  Merry 
Christmas — and  now  it's  spoiled!  Good  Lord,  Skinner! 
To  think  of  a  man  throwing  away  thirty  thousand  dol 
lars,  not  to  mention  the  upkeep  and  interest  after  he's 
thrown  it  away " 

"You've  just  this  very  day  thrown  away  about 
thirty  thousand  dollars  you  didn't  have  to,"  Mr.  Skin 
ner  reminded  him. 

"I  do  have  to.  I've  got  to  keep  all  my  boys  happy 
and  satisfied  and  up  on  their  toes,  or  what  the  devil 
would  happen  to  us?  They're  my  partners  when  all  is 
said  and  done,  and  how  am  I  going  to  face  my  Maker 
if  I  don't  give  my  partners  a  square  deal?  There's  a 
vast  difference  between  justice  and  extravagance. 
Skinner,  you  don't  suppose  Matt's  like  every  other 
shellback  of  a  skipper?  Why,  he's  only  twenty-five 
years  old;  and  if  he's  got  the  blue-water  fever  again, 
after  a  year  ashore,  there'll  be  no  standing  him  at 
thirty." 

"Well,  he's  got  it,  sir,"  Mr.  Skinner  opined  firmly. 
"Did  you  ever  see  an  old  sailing  skipper  that  didn't  get 
it?  You  remember  Burns,  who  had  the  Sweet  Alfer- 
etta?  His  father  died  and  left  him  a  million  dollars, 


160  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

and  five  years  later  he  came  sneaking  in  here  one  day, 
told  you  he  was  tired  clipping  coupons  and  that  if  you 
wanted  to  save  his  life  you'd  give  him  back  the  Sweet 
Alferetta  and  a  hundred  dollars  a  month  to  skipper 
her!  He  sold  his  interest  to  his  successor  for  two 
thousand  dollars  when  he  fell  into  the  fortune — and 
five  years  later  he  bought  it  back  for  three  thousand, 
just  so  he  could  have  a  job  again. " 

"Yes,"  Gappy  admitted;  "they  all  get  the  blue- 
water  fever — after  they've  left  blue  water.  I  never 
knew  a  sailor  yet  who  wouldn't  tell  you  sailoring  was 
a  dog's  life;  but  I  never  knew  one  who  quit  and  quite 
recovered  from  the  hankering  to  go  back.  I  think 
you're  right,  Skinner.  This  yacht  is  just  a  symptom 
of  Matt's  disease.  He  realizes  his  business  interests 
tie  him  to  the  beach ;  but  if  he  has  a  sailing  yacht  that 
he  can  fuss  round  with  on  week-ends  in  the  bay,  and 
once  in  a  while  make  a  little  cruise  to  Puget  Sound  or 
the  Gulf  of  Lower  California,  he  figures  he'll  manage 
to  survive." 

Mr.  Skinner  nodded. 

"Speaking  of  yachts,"  Cappy  continued,  "the  case 
of  old  Cap'n  Cliff  Ashley  suggests  a  cure  for  this  boy 
Matt.  Cap'n  Cliff  was  a  Gloucester  fisherman,  with 
the  smartest  little  schooner  that  ever  came  home  from 
the  Grand  Banks  with  halibut  up  to  her  hatches.  He 
couldn't  read  or  write  and  he'd  never  learned  naviga 
tion  ;  but  he'd  been  born  with  the  instincts  of  a  homing 
pigeon,  and  somehow  whenever  he  pointed  his  schooner 
toward  Gloucester  he  managed  to  arrive  on  schedule; 
and  any  time  he  got  a  good  fair  breeze  from  the  west, 
like  as  not  he'd  run  over  to  England  and  sell  his  catch 
there. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  161 

"Like  most  of  his  breed,  Cap'n  Cliff  had  to  have  a 
fast  boat ;  he  had  to  keep  her  as  immaculate  as  a  yacht 
in  order  to  be  happy,  and  he  was  never  so  happy  as 
when  he'd  meet  a  squadron  of  the  New  York  Yacht 
Club  out  on  a  cruise  and  sail  circles  round  the  flagship 
with  his  little  old  knockabout  fish  schooner.  On  such 
occasions  old  Cap'n  Cliff  would  break  out  a  long  red 
burgee  with  M.  O.  B.  Y.  C.  in  white  letters  on  it.  On 
one  of  his  trips  to  England  he  hooked  up  with  a  big 
schooner  wearing  the  ensign  of  the  Royal  Yacht  Club 
and  dassed  *em  to  race  with  him. 

"Well,  sir,  it  happened  that  the  late  King  Edward 
was  aboard  his  yacht  that  day,  and  you  know  what  a 
sport  he  was  in  his  palmy  days.  Cap'n  Cliff  cracked 
on  everything  he  had  in  the  way  of  plain  sail  and,  after 
holding  the  King  even  for  a  couple  of  hours,  he  put  his 
packet  under  gaff  topsails  and  fisherman's  staysail  and 
broke  out  the  balloon  jib,  bade  Edward  good-bye  in  the 
International  Code — and  flew!  About  six  hours  after 
Cap'n  Cliff  came  to  anchor,  the  King  loafed  up  in  his 
yacht,  dropped  anchor,  cleared  away  his  launch,  and 
came  over  to  visit  Cap'n  Cliff  and  shake  hands  with 
him. 

"  'My  dear  sir,'  says  Edward,  pointing  aloft  to  the 
red  burgee  with  M.  O.  B.  Y.  C.  on  it,  'pray  to  what 
yacht  club  do  you  belong?* 

6  'My  own  bloomin'  yacht  club,  your  majesty,*  says 
Cap'n  Cliff;  and  if  he  hadn't  been  a  Yankee  fisherman 
the  King  would  have  knighted  him  on  the  spot ! 

"And  that  remark,  Skinner,  my  dear  boy,  clears  the 
atmosphere  in  the  case  of  our  own  dear  Matthew.  He 
shall  have  his  own  blooming  yacht  club,  only  his  yacht 
shall  carry  cargo  and  pay  her  way." 


162  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"You  mean " 

"I  mean  I'm  going1  to  send  him  to  sea  for  one  voyage, 
once  a  year,  which  will  break  up  that  blue-water  fever 
and  save  Matt  thirty  thousand  dollars  as  an  initial 
investment,  and  about  ten  thousand  a  year  upkeep  and 
interest.  All  that  boy  needs  to  cure  him,  Skinner,  is 
the  old  Retriever,  totally  surrounded  by  horizon  and 
smelling  of  a  combination  of  tarred  rope,  turpentine, 
wet  canvas,  fresh  paint,  green  lumber  and  the  stink 
of  the  bilge  water.  Lordy  me,  Skinner,  it  puts  them 
to  sleep  and  they  wake  up  feeling  perfectly  bully! 
Where's  the  Retriever  now,  Skinner,  and  who  is  in 
charge  of  her  destinies?" 

"She's  due  on  Puget  Sound  from  the  West  Coast. 
Captain  Lib  Curtis  has  her." 

"Good  news!  Well,  now,  Skinner,  you  listen  to  me: 
The  minute  he  reports  his  arrival  you  wire  Lib  to  put 
the  old  harridan  on  dry  dock  and  slick  her  up  until 
she  looks  like  four  aces  and  a  king,  with  everybody  in 
the  game  standing  pat.  Can't  have  any  whiskers  on 
her  bottom  when  Matt  takes  her  out,  Skinner,  because 
if  the  boy's  to  enjoy  himself  she's  got  to  be  able  to 
show  a  clean  pair  of  heels.  Then  write  Lib  to  wire  his 
resignation  and  give  any  old  reason  for  it.  Have  him 
resign  just  before  the  vessel  is  loaded  and  ready  for 
sea,  and  tell  him  to  insist  on  being  relieved  immediately. 
Of  course,  Skinner,  Matt  will  get  busy  right  away, 
looking  for  the  right  skipper  to  relieve  Captain  Curtis 
— and  about  that  time  the  president  emeritus  will  shove 
in  his  oar  and  ball  things  up.  Every  doggoned  skipper 
Matt  recommends  for  the  job  is  going  to  have  his 
application  vetoed  by  Alden  P.  Ricks,  and — er — ahem! 
Harumph-h-h!" 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  163 

"Yes,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"And  you  stick  by  me,  Skinner.  Follow  all  my  leads 
and  don't  trump  any  of  my  aces;  and  just  about  the 
time  Matt  begins  to  get  good  and  mad  at  my  doggoned 
interference — you  know,  Skinner,  my  boy,  I'm  only  a 
figurehead — you  cut  in  and  say:  'Well,  for  heaven's 
sake !  You  two  still  squabbling  over  a  skipper  for  the 
Retriever?  Matt,  why  don't  you  save  the  demurrage 
and  take  her  out  yourself — eh?' '  And  Gappy  winked 
knowingly  and  prodded  his  general  manager  in  the  ribs. 

"I  guess  that  plan's  kind  of  poor — eh,  Skinner?  I 
guess  it  won't  work — eh?  Particularly  when  I  come 
right  back  and  say :  'Well,  he  might  as  well,  for  all  the 
use  he  is  round  this  office.  Here  I  go  to  work  and 
appoint  him  president  of  the  Blue  Star  and  he  won't 
stay  in  the  office  and  'tend  to  the  president's  business. 
Yes,  sir!  Leaves  all  that  to  you  and  me,  Skinner, 
while  he  degrades  himself  doing  the  work  of  a  port 
captain.'  " 

"All  of  which  is  quite  true,  Mr.  Ricks,"  Mr.  Skinner 
affirmed.  "He  will  not  stay  in  the  office— and  he's 
getting  worse.  Two-thirds  of  his  time  is  spent  round 
the  docks." 

"Well,  two-thirds  of  his  time  in  1915  will  not  be 
spent  round  the  docks,  Skinner.  Play  that  bet  to  win! 
We're  going  to  have  a  busy  old  year  in  the  shipping 
game  in  1915,  and  a  busier  one  in  1916  if  that  war  in 
Europe  isn't  over  by  then.  A  voyage  in  the  Retriever 
will  fix  the  boy  up,  Skinner,  and  he'll  stick  round  the 
office  and  put  over  some  real  business.  Yachts!  Hah! 
What  does  a  business  man  want  of  a  yacht?" 

"You  overlooked  one  very  important  detail,  Mr. 
Ricks,"  Skinner  ventured. 


164?  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"I  overlook  nothing,  Skinner — nothing.  His  wife 
shall  accompany  him  on  the  voyage.  I  shall  implant 
the  idea  in  her  head,  beginning  this  very  night  as  soon 
as  I  get  home.  I'll  just  tell  her  she  isn't  and  never 
will  be  a  true  sailor's  true  love  until  she  takes  a  voyage 
with  her  husband.  Romantic  girl,  Florry!  She'll 
about  eat  that  suggestion,  feathers  and  all,  Skinner. 
She'll  do  the  real  work  for  us.  Always  remember,  my 
boy,  that  an  ounce  of  promotion  is  worth  enough 
perspiration  to  float  the  Narcissus." 

"But  what  shall  we  do  for  a  port  captain?" 
"I've  ordered  Mike  Murphy — via  Matt,  of  course — 
to  take  a  vacation  under  full  salary  and  recover  from 
the  wounds  he  received  walloping  that  German  crew  on 
the  Narcissus.  About  the  time  Matt  leaves  in  the 
Retriever,  Mike  will  be  ready  to  go  to  work  again  or 
commit  murder  if  we  don't  give  it  to  him;  so  we'll  slip 
him  a  temporary  appointment  as  port  captain.  I'm 
going  to  make  it  permanent  some  day,  anyhow.  I  sup 
pose  you've  noticed  that  Mike  Murphy  has  a  crush  on 
your  stenographer;  and  I  don't  see  how  he's  going  to 
put  anything  over  if  he  never  gets  a  chance  to  see  the 
girl!" 

"I  really  hadn't  noticed  it,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"If  it  was  a  ten-cent  piece  you'd  notice  it,"  Gappy 

retorted.     "And  now  that  matter  is  settled,  how  about 

this  port  steward?     Is  he  a  grafter?    If  not,  raise  him 

five  dollars  a  month.     He's  been  with  us  only  a  year." 

Late   that   afternoon,   after   Gappy   had   made   the 

rounds  of  his  office,  distributing  his  checks  and  wishing 

all  hands  the  merriest  of  Christmases,  he  paused  at  last 

at  Mr.  Skinner's  desk  and  laid  a  thousand-dollar  check 

thereon. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  165 


^  a  peep  out  of  you,  Skinner — not  a  peep!"  he 

utioned  his  general  manager.  "No  thanks  due  me. 
ju've  earned  it  a  thousand  times  over — and  then 
some.  Hum-m !  Ahem !  Harumph-h-h !  By  the  way, 
Skinner,  my  dear  boy,  I  forgot  to  mention  to  you  an 
other  little  idea  that's  in  the  back  of  my  head." 

"You  mean  about  sending  Matt  to  sea  for  a  voy- 
age?" 

"Exactly.  The  sea  is  a  wonderful  institution, 
Skinner — wonderful !  It  promotes  health  and  strength ; 
and — er — damn  it,  Skinner,  my  dear  boy,  have  you 
ever  observed  that  there  isn't  a  married  skipper  in  our 
employ  that  hasn't  been  lucky?  Many  well-known 
authorities  prescribe  a  sea  voyage " 

"What  for,  Mr.  Ricks?" 

Cappy  thrust  his  thumb  into  Skinner's  ribs,  winked, 
bent  low,  and  whispered: 

"Too  slow,  Skinner;  too  slow.  I'm  getting  old,  you 
know — I  can't  wait  for  ever.  And  if  the  experiment 
succeeds — Skinner,  my  dear  boy,  you're  next !  You've 
been  married  more  than  a  year  now " 

"I  fail  to  comprehend " 

"Grandson!"  Cappy  whispered.     "Grandson!" 

"Oh!"  said  Mr.  Skinner. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

One  of  the  remarks  most  frequently  heard  on 
California  Street  was  to  the  effect  that  whenever 
Cappy  Ricks  girded  up  his  loins  and  went  after  some 
thing  he  generally  got  it.  His  scheme  to  get  Matt 
Peasley  to  sea  for  one  voyage,  accompanied  by  Florry, 
worked  as  smoothly  as  a  piston;  and  on  the  fifteenth 
of  January  the  Peasleys  went  aboard  the  Retriever  at 
Bellingham  and  towed  out,  bound  for  Manila  with  a 
cargo  of  fir  lumber.  Matt  made  the  run  down  in 
sixty-six  days,  a  smart  passage,  waited  a  week  in 
Manila  Bay  before  he  could  secure  a  berth  and  com 
mence  discharging,  discharged  in  a  week,  loaded  a 
cargo  of  hemp,  with  a  deckload  of  hardwood  logs,  and 
was  ready  for  the  return  trip  to  San  Francisco  on 
April  twenty-fourth,  on  which  day  he  towed  out  past 
Corregidor. 

His  wife,  however,  was  not  with  him  on  the  return 
voyage.  Following  a  family  conference,  it  was  de 
cided  that  Florry  should  return  home  on  the  mail 
steamer — which  action  Cappy  Ricks  considered  most 
significant  when  Matt  apprised  him  of  it  by  cable,  but 
failed  to  state  a  reason.  The  president  emeritus,  im 
mediately  upon  receipt  of  this  information,  trotted  into 
Mr.  Skinner's  office  and  laid  Matt  Peasley's  cablegram 
on  the  latter's  desk. 

"Well,  Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  piped,  rubbing  his 

166 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  167 

hands  together  the  while,  "what  do  you  know  about 
that?" 

"Do  you — er — suspect — er — something,  Mr.  Ricks  ?" 

"Suspect  ?  Not  a  bit  of  it.  I  know !  Neither  Florry 
nor  Matt  would  dream  of  permitting  the  other  to  come 
home  alone  if  there  wasn't  a  third  party  to  be  consid 
ered.  Paste  that  in  your  hat,  Skinner.  It  isn't  done." 

Cappy  was  right,  for  the  same  steamer  that  bore 
his  daughter  home  carried  also  a  brief  letter  from  his 
son-in-law  conveying  the  tidings  of  great  joy.  The 
old  man  was  so  happy  he  went  into  Mr.  Skinner's  office 
and  struck  his  general  manager  a  terrible  blow  between 
the  shoulders,  after  which  he  declared  it  was  a  shame 
that  his  years  and  reputation  for  respectability  denied 
him  the  privilege  of  chartering  a  seagoing  hack  and 
painting  the  town  red! 

The  Retriever  crept  slowly  up  the  China  Sea  on  the 
first  of  the  southwest  monsoon.  At  that  period  of  the 
year,  however,  the  monsoon  is  weak  and  unsteady ;  and 
after  clearing  the  northern  end  of  Luzon  the  Retriever 
kicked  round  in  a  belt  of  light  and  baffling  airs  for  a 
week.  Then  the  monsoon  freshened  somewhat  and  the 
Retriever  once  more  rolled  lazily  away  on  her  course, 
with  young  Matt  Peasley  humming  chanteys  on  her 
quarter-deck  and  pondering  the  mystery  that  confronts 
all  mankind  in  their  first  adventure  in  fatherhood. 
Would  it  be  a  boy  or  a  girl?  He  was  expressing  to 
himself  for  perhaps  the  thousandth  time  the  hope  that 
it  would  be  a  boy,  when  from  the  poop  he  saw  something 
he  did  not  relish. 

It  was  the  ship's  cat  coming  across  the  deckload 
toward  him,  in  his  yellow  eyes  a  singularly  pleased 
expression  and  in  his  mouth  a  singularly  large  rat. 


168  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Matt  Peasley  stepped  below,  found  an  old  glove  and 
drew  it  over  his  right  hand,  after  which  he  returned  to 
the  quarter-deck. 

"Come,  Tommy!"  he  called;  and  pussy  came,  to  be 
seized  by  the  tail  and,  still  holding  fast  to  his  prey,  cast 
overboard. 

"It's  bad  luck  to  do  that  to  a  black  cat,  sir,"  the 
mate  informed  him. 

Matt  Peasley's  eyes  were  blazing. 

"And  it's  worse  luck  still  for  any  mate  aboard  my 
ship  who  neglects  to  put  the  rat-guards  on  the  lines 
when  the  vessel  is  lying  at  the  dock,"  he  growled.  "You 
lubberly  idiot!" 

"But  I  did  put  the  rat-guards  on  the  lines,"  the  mate 
protested. 

"Yes,  I  know  you  did;  but  I  had  to  remind  you  of 
it,"  Matt  replied.  "You  didn't  get  them  on  in  time — 
and  now  the  Lord  only  knows  how  many  rats  we  have 
aboard.  Ordinarily  I  don't  mind  rats,  but  an  Oriental 
rat  is  something  to  be  afraid  of." 

"Why,  sir?" 

"Because  they  carry  the  germs  of  bubonic  plague, 
you  farmer!"  And  Matt  very  carefully  removed  his 
glove  and  cast  it  overboard  after  the  cat.  "And  it's 
a  cold  day  when  you  can't  find  an  occasional  case  of 
plague  in  the  Orient.  The  cat  caught  the  rat  and 
mauled  it  round;  hence  the  cat  had  to  go,  because  I 
never  permit  in  my  cabin  a  cat  that  has  been  on  inti 
mate  terms  with  an  Oriental  rat.  And  now  I  bet  I 
know  what's  wrong  with  that  fo'castle  hand  that  went 
into  the  sick  bay  the  day  before  yesterday.  He  com 
plained  of  swelling  in  the  glands  of  his  neck  and 
groins." 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  169 

The  cook  left  the  forward  deckhouse  and  came  aft 
over  the  deckload.  At  the  break  of  the  poop  he  paused. 

"Captain  Peasley,"  he  announced,  "Lindstrom  is 
dead." 

"Tell  everybody  to  keep  away  from  him,"  Matt 
ordered.  He  turned  to  the  mate.  "Mr.  Matson,"  he 
announced,  "the  first  duty  of  a  murderer  is  to  get  rid 
of  the  body.  Go  forward  and  throw  Lindstrom's 
body  overboard;  then  stay  forward.  If  you  come  aft 
I  -until  I  send  for  you  I'll  blow  your  brains  out !" 


CHAPTER  XXV 

When  the  Retriever  was  out  from  Manila  seventy 
days  Gappy  Ricks  remarked  to  Mr.  Skinner  that  Matt 
would  be  breezing  in  most  any  day  now.  On  the 
eightieth  day  he  remarked  to  Mr.  Skinner  that  Matt 
was  coming  home  a  deal  slower  than  he  had  gone  out. 
The  efficient  Skinner,  however,  cited  so  many  instances 
of  longer  passages  from  Manila  to  San  Francisco  that 
Gappy  was  comforted,  although  he  was  not  convinced. 
"You  make  me  a  type-written  list  of  all  those  vessels 
and  their  passages,  Skinner,"  he  cautioned;  "and 
when  you  can't  think  of  any  more  authentic  cases  fake 
up  a  few.  Florry's  beginning  to  worry.  She  knows 
now  what  it  means  to  be  a  sailor's  wife,  and  if  that 
doggoned  Matt  doesn't  report  soon  I'll  know  what  it 
means  to  be  a  sailor's  father-in-law.  I  wish  to 
Jimminy  I  hadn't  sent  Matt  out  with  the  Retriever.'9 

Ninety  days  passed.  Gappy  commenced  to  fidget. 
A  hundred  days  passed,  and  Gappy  visited  the  hydro- 
graphic  office  and  spent  a  long  time  poring  over  charts 
of  the  air  currents  in  the  China  Sea,  along  the  coast 
of  Asia  and  in  the  North  Pacific. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  quavered  when  he  re 
turned  to  the  office;  "I'm  a  most  unhappy  old  man." 

Mr.  Skinner  forgot  for  an  instant  that  he  was  a 
business  man  and,  with  a  sudden,  impulsive  movement, 
he  put  his  long,  thin  arm  round  the  old  man  and 
squeezed  him. 

170 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  171 

"If  you  didn't  think  so  much  of  him,  sir,"  he  com 
forted  Gappy,  "you'd  worry  less.  She  really  will  not 
be  overdue  until  she's  out  a  hundred  and  twenty  days." 

"Skinner,"  Gappy  piped  wearily,  "don't  try  to  de 
ceive  me.  I've  been  in  the  shipping  game  for  forty-odd 
years,  boy.  I  know  it's  about  six  thousand  miles  from 
San  Francisco  to  Manila,  and  if  a  vessel  averages 
ninety  miles  a  day  she's  making  a  smart  passage. 
Matt  made  it  down  in  sixty-six  days,  and  he  ought 
to  come  back  in  sixty,  because  he  has  fair  winds  all 
the  way.  Skinner,  the  boy's  a  month  overdue;  and  if 
he  never  shows  up — if  he  stays  out  much  longer — 
Florry'll  break  her  heart;  and  my  grandson — think 
of  it,  Skinner! — think  of  the  prenatal  effect  on  the 
child !  Oh,  Skinner,  my  dear,  dear  boy,  I  want  him  big 
and  light-hearted  and  sunny-souled  like  Matt — and  to 
think  this  is  all  my  doing — my  own  daughter!  Oh! 
Oh,  Skinner,  my  heart  is  breaking !" 

Mr.  Skinner  fled  to  his  own  office  and  did  something 
most  un-Skinner-like.  He  blinked  away  several  large 
bright  tears ;  and  while  he  was  blinking  them  the  tele 
phone  bell  rang.  Mechanically  Mr.  Skinner  answered. 
It  was  Jerry  Dooley,  in  charge  of  the  Merchants'  Ex 
change. 

"Mr.  Skinner,"  said  Jerry,  "I've  got  some  bad  news 
for  you." 

"The — the — Retriever "  Skinner  almost  whis 
pered. 

"Yes,  sL.  I  thought  I'd  tell  you  first,  so  you  could 
break  it  to  the  old  man  gently.  The  Grace  liner  Eciis- 
dorian  arrived  at  Victoria  this  morning  and  reports 
speaking  the  Retriever  eight  hundred  miles  ofF  the 
coast  of  Formosa.  The  vessel  was  under  jib,  lower 


172  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

topsail,  foretopmast  staysail,  mainsail  and  spanker. 
She  was  flying  two  flags — an  inverted  ensign  and  the 
yellow  quarantine  flag.  The  Ecudorian  steamed  close 
alongside  of  her,  to  windward.  Captain  Peasley  was 
at  the  wheel " 

"Thank  God!"  Mr.  Skinner  almost  sobbed.  "What 
was  wrong  with  her,  Jerry?  Hurry  up,  man!  Hurry 
up!  Tell  me !" 

"He  was  alone  on  the  ship,  Mr.  Skinner.  Bubonic 
plague!  Killed  the  entire  crew!  Matt  was  the  only 
man  immune,  and  he's  sailing  the  Retriever  home 
alone!" 

Mr.  Skinner  groaned. 

"Good  gracious  Providence!  Why  didn't  the 
Ecudorian  take  him  off?" 

"Credit  them  with  offering  it,"  Jerry  replied.  "He 
wouldn't  come.  He  declined  to  jeopardize  the  people 
aboard  the  steamer  and  he  wouldn't  abandon  the  Re 
triever  with  her  full  cargo;  so  what  could  they  do? 
They  had  to  sail  away  without  him." 

Gently  Mr.  Skinner  broke  the  news  to  Cappy  Ricks ; 
for,  of  course,  the  United  Press  dispatches  had  carried 
it  to  the  later  afternoon  editions  and  it  would  be  useless 
for  Mr.  Skinner  to  attempt  to  lie  kindly.  Cappy,  with 
bowed  head,  heard  him  through ;  when  finally  he  looked 
up  at  Skinner  his  eyes  were  dead. 

"Quite  what  I  expected  of  him,  Skinner,"  he  said 
dully.  "And  I'd  rather  have  him  die  than  dog  it! 
This  report  from  the  Ecudorian  helps  some,  Skinner. 
It  will  do  to  keep  hope  alive  in  my  Florry — and  every 

two  weeks  until  the  boy  is  born  we'll — we'll —Oh, 

Skinner " 

"Yes,  sir ;  I'll  attend  to  it.    Leave  everything  to  me, 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  173 

r.  Ricks.  I'll  have  wireless  reports  and  telegrams 
and  cablegrams  from  every  port  on  earth  telling  of 
hips'  having  spoken  the  Retriever,  with  the  skipper 

11  and  hearty,  and  sending  messages  of  good  cheer 
;o  his  wife." 

"You — you  won't  be — er — stingy,  Skinner?     You'll 

end  out  the  Tillicum  to  find  him  and  tow  him  in,  won't 

rou?     And  you'll  have  real  telegrams — spend  money, 

Skinner!     I'll  have  to  bring  those  messages  home  to 

Florry " 

"Everything,  Mr.  Ricks.  And  I'll  start  right  in  by 
lipping  fifty  dollars  to  each  of  the  waterfront  re- 
>orters  on  all  the  papers.  They're  good  boys,  Mr. 
licks.  I'll  tell  them  why  I  have  to  have  the  service. 
VIrs.  Peasley  must  have  our  fake  reports  confirmed  in 
;he  papers " 

"For  work  like  that   the  marine  reporters    should 

lave  more  money,"  Gappy  suggested  wearily.     His  old 

land  reached  out  gropingly,  closed  over  Mr.  Skinner's 

ind  held  it  a  moment  childishly.     "You're  a  very  great 

omfort    to    me,    Skinner — very    great    indeed!      And 

you'll  come  home  with  me  to-night,  won't  you,  Skinner? 

'm  a  little  afraid — I  want  you  near  me,  Skinner — in 

:ase  I  can't  get  away  with  it  to  Florry." 

His  dry,  dead  eyes  studied  the  pattern  in  the  office 
arpet. 

"Two  mates,  a  cook  and  ten  A.  B.'s !"  he  murmured 
jresently.  "One  man,  even  a  Matt  Peasley,  cannot  do 
he  work  of  thirteen  men.  No,  Skinner;  it  isn't  done. 
3ne  man  simply  cannot  sail  a  barkentine." 

But  Mr.  Skinner  was  not  listening.  He  was  on  the 
ong-distance  phone  calling  the  master  of  the  Tillicum, 
ust  about  finishing  discharge  of  a  cargo  of  nitrate  at 


174  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

San  Pedro.  And  presently  Gappy  heard  him  speaking : 
"Mr.  Ricks,  listen!  Grant,  of  the  Tillicum,  says 
Matt  would  go  up  the  China  Sea  on  the  southwest 
monsoon  .  .  .  Yes,  captain.  You  say — ah,  yes;  quite 
so  ...  Grant  says  he'd  edge  over  until  he  got  into 
the  Japan  Stream,  and  that  would  add  a  knot  or  two 
an  hour  to  his  speed  .  .  .  Yes,  Grant.  Speak  up! 
.  .  .  Grant  says,  Mr.  Ricks,  that  about  the  middle  of 
September  or  the  first  of  October  Matt  would  run  out 
of  the  southwest  monsoon  into  the  northeast  monsoon 
— that's  it,  Grant,  isn't  it?  He'd  get  them  about  off 
Formosa,  eh?  .  .  .  Yes,  Grant.  Then  he'd  run  into 
the  prevailing  westerly  winds  and  run  north  on  a  great 
circle  about  five  hundred  miles  below,  the  Aleutian 
Islands — I  see,  Grant.  All  right !  Fill  your  oil  tanks 
and  take  an  extra  supply  on  deck,  head  into  the  North 
Pacific  .  .  .  Yes;  use  your  own  judgment,  of  course. 
Mine's  no  good  .  .  .  Yes ;  and  bring  a  lot  of  disin 
fectants  and  a  doctor,  so  it'll  be  safe  to  put  a  few  men 
aboard  when  you  find  her  and  put  your  hawser  on  her 
.  .  .  Yes,  Grant.  If  you  find  her  you'll  not  have 
reason  to  regret  it.  Good-bye !  Good  luck !" 

"While  the  T'dlicwm  is  on  this  wild-goose  chase, 
Skinner,"  Gappy  said  wearily,  "she  is  chartered  by  the 
Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  to  Alden  P.  Ricks 
personally,  at  the  prevailing  rates.  The  stockholders 
mustn't  pay  for  my  fancies,  Skinner.  You'll  see  to 
that,  won't  you?" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

Excerpt  from  the  log  of  Captain  Matt  Peasley 
relief  shipper  of  the  American  barkentine  Re 
triever;  Manila  to  San  Francisco. 

May  Third. — Seaman  Olaf  Lindstrom  died  to 
day,  following  an  illness  of  thirty-six  hours. 
He  was  taken  with  chills  and  fever  on  the  morning  of 
the  second,  complained  of  a  severe  headache  and 
vomited  repeatedly.  Removed  him  from  the  forecastle 
to  a  spare  room  in  the  forward  house,  which  on  the 
Retriever  has  always  been  used  as  a  sick  bay.  While 
being  supported  along  the  deck  he  collapsed,  and  when 
the  mate  undressed  him  and  put  him  to  bed  he  com 
plained  of  soreness  in  his  groins.  I  examined  them 
and  found  them  slightly  swollen.  Treated  him  for 
ague — calomel,  salts,  quinine  and  whisky,  and  one- 
fortieth-grain  strychnine  hypodermic  solution  to  keep 
up  his  heart  action  when  the  fever  registered  one 
hundred  and  four  and  higher.  He  grew  steadily  worse. 
Could  not  find  anything  in  my  Home  Book  of  Medicine 
that  exactly  described  his  symptoms,  and  was  at  a  loss 
to  diagnose  Lindstrom's  case  until  I  discovered  the 
ship's  cat  with  a  rat  it  had  just  killed. 

There  were  no  rats  aboard  the  Retriever  when  she 
left  San  Francisco.  I  recalled  that  the  first  night  we 
tied  up  to  the  dock  in  Manila  a  dirty  little  China  Coast 
tramp  lay  just  ahead  of  us;  and  as  I  passed  her  on 

175 


176  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

my  way  uptown  I  saw  a  rat  run  down  her  gangplank. 
She  had  rat-guards  on  her  mooring  lines.  We  had  just 
tied  up  to  the  dock  and  I  returned  immediately  and 
instructed  the  mate  to  be  sure  to  put  the  rat-guards  on 
our  mooring  lines,  and  not  to  use  any  sort  of  gang 
plank.  When  I  returned  to  the  vessel  later  that  night 
I  found  that  the  mate  had  neglected  to  put  on  the  rat- 
guards  and  logged  him  for  it.  Before  we  left  the  dock 
a  Chinaman  died  of  bubonic  plague  aboard  that  tramp, 
and  the  port  health  authorities  put  the  vessel  in  quar 
antine  immediately  and  prevented  further  spread  of  the 
disease. 

When  I  saw  the  ship's  cat  with  a  rat,  therefore,  I 
knew  we  had  some  of  that  rotten  China  Coaster's 
plague  rats  aboard.  Accordingly  threw  cat  and  rat 
overboard  just  as  the  cook  announced  Lindstrom's 
death.  Upon  looking  up  the  information  on  plague,  I 
am  now  convinced  we  have  it  aboard — that  Linstrom 
died  of  it.  First  Mate  Olaf  Matson  wrapped  himself  in 
my  old  bathrobe,  gloved  his  hands  and  threw  Lind 
strom's  body  overboard,  following  it  with  the  gloves 
and  bathrobe. 

I  am,  in  a  measure,  prepared  for  plague.  When  I 
learned  we  had  lain  close  to  a  vessel  with  a  case  of 
plague  aboard  I  laid  in  some  plague  medicine,  on  gen 
eral  principles  and  just  to  have  an  anchor  out  to 
windward.  At  the  English  drug  store  on  the  Escolta 
I  bought  a  tiny  bottle  of  Yersin's  Antipest  Serum  and 
another  of  Haffkine's  Prophylactic  Fluid.  It  was  all 
they  had  on  hand  and  it  wasn't  much ;  but — it  is  enough 
to  save  me — and  I  intend  to  be  saved  if  possible.  I 
cannot  afford  to  die  now.  I  do  not  know  how  old  the 
Haifkine's  Fluid  is;  and  the  older  it  is,  the  longer  it 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  177 

takes  to  render  one  immune.  The  antipest  serum  will 
render  me  immune  immediately,  but  the  duration  of  the 
immunity  thus  granted  lasts,  at  the  most,  only  fifteen 
days.  I  must,  therefore,  first  take  a  hypodermic  in 
jection  of  antipest  serum  to  render  me  immune  imme 
diately  and  the  next  day  follow  with  an  injection  of 
Haffkine's  Fluid,  which  gives  permanent  immunity,  but 
not  for  a  week  or  longer  when  used  alone. 

There  is  this  devilish  tiling  about  it  to  be  considered, 
however:  I  may  at  this  moment  be  inoculated  with 
plague,  for  the  period  of  incubation  is  from  three  to 
seven  days — and  I've  fondled  that  cat  every  day  since 
we  left  Manila.  If  I  am  already  infected  and  do  not 
know  it,  and  while  in  that  condition  take  an  injection 
of  the  antipest  serum,  the  book  says  the  serum  will 
immediately  bring  on  a  fatal  and  virulent  attack  of  the 
plague !  On  the  other  hand,  if  I  am  not  inoculated  and 
take  the  antipest  serum  I  am  safe. 

The  question  before  the  house,  therefore,  is:  Shall 
I  take  it  or  shall  I  not?  And  if  I  do  take  it  shall  I 
be  saving  my  life  or  committing  suicide?  I  am  like 
the  fellow  in  the  story  who  was  forced  to  drink  from 
one  of  two  glasses  of  wine.  He  knew  one  of  them 
contained  poison,  but  he  didn't  know  which  one  it  was ! 
I  shall  make  my  will  and  flip  a  coin  to  decide  the  issue. 

May  Fourth. — Two  a.m.  Mate  reports  another  sick 
man  in  the  forecastle.  Wish  I  had  some  formaldehyde 
gas.  Have  told  mate  to  sprinkle  chloride  of  lime  in 
Lindstrom's  bunk  and  to  dust  the  walls  and  floors  of 
the  forecastle  and  sick  bay  with  it.  That  is  the  only 
disinfectant  I  have  aboard  in  quantity. 

At  midnight  I  flipped  the  coin — heads  I'd  take  it ; 
tails  I  wouldn't.  The  coin  fell  heads — and  I  took  it. 


178  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Four  a.m. — Mustered  the  crew  and  gave  them  a  lec 
ture  on  bubonic  plague.  I  have  sufficient  antipest 
serum  for  four  men.  After  explaining  that  it  was 
Hobson's  choice,  I  asked  the  men  to  draw  matches, 
held  in  the  hand  of  the  first  mate,  to  see  who  should  be 
the  lucky  ones.  They  all  decided  to  take  a  chance  and 
go  without  it,  with  the  exception  of  two  seamen  and 
the  mates,  who,  learning  that  I  had  taken  it,  decided 
to  follow  suit.  Accordingly  I  inoculated  them  with  the 
antipest  serum. 

Five  p.m. — Inoculated  myself  with  Haffkine's  Fluid. 

Seven-thirty. — Seaman  Ross  died.  Mr.  Matson 
threw  the  body  overboard.  No  services. 

Midnight. — Mr.  Matson  is  down  with  it. 

May  Fifth. — Mr.  Matson  very  ill  and  delirious. 
Cook  moping  round  like  a  drunken  man;  complains  of 
severe  headache.  Wind  blowing  lightly  from  south 
west.  Everything  set.  Inoculated  second  mate  and 
the  two  seamen  with  Haffkine's. 

May  Sixth. — Mr.  Matson  died  at  noon  today.  Cook 
down  with  it ;  also  another  seaman,  and  Mr.  Eccles,  the 
second  mate.  Have  altered  ship's  course  and  am 
running  for  Hongkong.  Winds  light  and  baffling. 
Have  not  made  thirty  miles  today.  Calm  at  midnight. 
Mr.  Eccles  died  just  as  the  watches  were  being  changed. 
I  now  feel  that  I  have  escaped;  so  examined  Mr. 
Eccles'  body.  He  went  so  fast  I  am  curious.  No 
swelling  of  the  glands  at  all.  Am  inclined  to  think  his 
was  pneumonic  or  septicsemic.  Threw  him  overboard 
myself. 

May  Seventh. — Light  and  baffling  airs  all  day ;  mon 
soon  blowing  in  weak  puffs.  Another  seaman  ill.  So 
ends  this  day. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  179 

May  Eighth. — Cook  died  at  noon.  No  buboes  on 
him  either.  He  turned  kind  of  black.  I  was  chief 
undertaker.  No  airs  to  speak  of.  Ship  barely  making 
steerage  way.  So  ends  this  day. 

May  Ninth. — Seaman  Peterson  died  early  this  morn 
ing.  Do  not  know  exact  hour.  Found  him  dead  in 
his  berth.  Another  funeral;  no  services.  Monsoon 
freshening.  Made  forty-eight  miles  today.  Two  more 
seamen  on  sick  report ;  and,  to  add  to  my  worries,  they 
are  the  very  two  I  inoculated  with  the  antipest  serum 
and  Haffkine's.  Is  this  stuff  worthless? 

May  Tenth. — Seamen  Halloran  and  Kaiser  died 
within  an  hour  of  each  other  this  evening — Halloran 
at  nine-thirty  and  Kaiser  at  ten-eighteen.  Put  both 
bodies  overboard  immediately. 

I  have  four  seamen  left,  and  am  doing  the  cooking, 
navigating,  nursing  and  undertaking.  Wind  freshen 
ing  hourly.  Made  seventy-two  miles  today.  Glad 
Florry  and  Cappy  Ricks  cannot  see  me  now,  although, 
for  some  fool  reason,  I  have  a  notion  I  shall  see  them 
again.  If  I  were  going  to  get  plague  it  would  have 
developed  before  now.  I  feel  quite  safe,  but  most 
unhappy  and  worried. 

Midnight. — Seaman  Anderson  down  with  it.  Jumped 
overboard  to  save  me  the  bother  of  throwing  him  over 
board  about  the  day  after  to-morrow,  which  is  a 
courtesy  I  did  not  expect  of  Anderson.  I  am  obliged 
to  him.  I  am  exhausted  and  so  are  my  three  remaining 
seamen.  We  cannot  handle  the  canvas  now,  so  have 
taken  in  the  foresail,  royals,  and  topgallant  sails, 
hauled  down  the  flying  jib  and  got  the  gaff  topsail  off 
her,  leaving  her  under  the  jib,  fore-topmast  staysail, 


180  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

upper  and  lower  fore-topsails,  main-topmast  staysail, 
mainsail  and  spanker.  Hove  her  to  and  turned  in. 

May  Eleventh. — After  a  horrible  breakfast,  which 
I  cooked,  got  under  way  again.  Monsoon  blowing 
nicely,  but  under  the  small  amount  of  canvas  I  am 
forced  to  carry  cannot  make  more  than  six  miles  an 
hour.  Have  decided  not  to  run  to  Hongkong.  If  I  am 
to  lose  my  three  remaining  seamen  I  shall  have  lost 
them  long  before  I  sight  land,  and  the  tug  or  steamer 
that  hooks  on  to  me  off  Hongkong  will  stick  me  with 
a  terrific  salvage  bill.  If  I'm  going  to  be  stuck  I  prefer 
to  be  stuck  closer  to  home,  and  if  I  manage  to  keep 
these  three  men  the  four  of  us  can  sail  her  home.  I'll 
take  a  chance  and  run  up  the  coast  of  Asia  with  the 
Japan  Stream  until  I  reach  the  northeast  monsoon. 
I'm  certain  to  be  spoken  and  can  send  word  to  Florry. 
In  a  pinch,  at  this  season  of  the  year,  I  can  sail  her 
home  alone. 

May  Fifteenth. — I  am  alone  on  the  ship.  Into  the 
Japan  Stream,  monsoon  blowing  the  sweetest  it  ever 
blew.  Lucky  thing  for  me  I  had  the  forethought  to 
trim  her  down;  otherwise  I  should  have  had  to  cut 
away  a  lot  of  canvas.  And  how  Gappy  Ricks  would 
scream  at  the  sail  bill  later  on !  We  were  hove  to  over 
night  when  Borden  and  Jacobsen  died,  on  the  thir 
teenth.  McBain  complained  of  a  headache  and  vertigo 
on  the  morning  of  the  fourteenth;  so  I  laid  to  until  he 
died,  last  night.  I  was  not  with  him  when  he  passed. 
What  good  would  it  have  done?  I  had  breakfast;  and 
after  breakfast  I  found  him  in  his  berth,  dead.  I  tossed 
him  overboard,  and  every  last  rag  of  clothing,  dunnage 
and  blankets  aboard,  with  the  exception  of  those  in 
my  own  cabin.  Then  I  burned  sulphur  in  the  fore- 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  181 

castle,  the  galley,  the  cook's  room  and  the  stateroom 
formerly  occupied  by  the  mates,  closed  the  doors,  and 
hoped  for  the  best.  Slept  a  lot  that  day  and  night; 
and  at  eight  this  morning  slacked  off  my  spanker  and 
main  sheets,  checked  in  my  foreyard  and  topsail  by 
taking  the  the  braces  to  the  donkey  engine,  and  was 
off  for  home. 

Have  established  my  commissary  in  the  lee  of  the 
wheel  box.  Set  up  a  small  kerosene  stove  I  found  in 
the  storeroom,  and  get  along  nicely.  It  is  quite  an 
art  to  fry  eggs  with  one  hand  and  steady  the  wheel 
with  the  other,  but  I  managed  it  three  times  today. 
To-morrow  I  will  cook  enough  at  breakfast  to  last  me 
for  luncheon  and  supper;  hence  will  only  have  to  heat 
some  coffee. 

Logged  fifty-one  miles  by  eight  o'clock;  then  lashed 
the  wheel  and  let  her  take  care  of  herself  while  I  got 
steam  up  in  the  donkey  and  hauled  in  my  spanker  and 
mainsail;  then  I  slacked  off  my  foreyard  and  topsail 
yards,  hove  her  to  on  the  port  tack,  hung  three  red 
lights  on  the  forestay  to  show  she  wasn't  under  com 
mand,  set  my  alarm  clock  and  turned  in.  I  have  to 
smile  at  the  ease  with  which  one  man — provided  he  is 
a  sizable  man  and  able  to  stand  strain — can  sail  a 
barkentine  before  the  wind  in  fair  weather.  I  am  not 
worried.  I  am  not  going  to  have  bubonic  plague.  It 
is  horribly  lonely,  but  I  am  due  for  fair  winds — and 
I  should  worry. 

Even  if  I  should  get  a  blow  and  have  to  take  the 
lower  topsail  off  her,  I  can  lower  the  yard  by  the 
topsail  halyards  until  it  rests -on  the  cap;  then  I'll  skip 
aloft  and  run  a  knife  along  the  head  of  the  topsail 
and  let  it  whip  to  glory.  After  that  it  may  blow  and 


182  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

be  damned !  All  the  clothes  the  old  girl  is  wearing  now 
will  never  take  the  sticks  out  of  her.  I've  trimmed  her 
down  to  jib,  lower  topsail,  fore-topmast  staysail, 
mainsail  and  spanker.  Wish  I  dared  carry  the  foresail. 
However,  I  must  play  safe.  It  is  awful,  though,  to  be 
in  a  ship  as  fast  as  the  Retriever  and  have  to  crawl 
the  way  I'm  crawling.  Crawl  all  day  and  sleep  all 
night !  Well,  sometimes  I  can  crawl  all  day  and  night 
and  sleep  half  a  day.  We  shall  see.  I  used  to  be  able 
to  stand  considerable  before  I  hit  the  beach  and  got 
soft.  The  necessity  for  firing  the  donkey  every  night 
would  soon  exhaust  my  fuel  supply ;  but  I  have  a  deck- 
load  of  hardwood  logs ! 


i 


(Excerpt  Jrom  the  log  of  Cap't  Matt  Peasley: ) 
'I  am  alone  on  the  ship — all  the  rest  are  now  dead" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

Four  months  had  passed  since  the  Ecudorian  had 
spoken  Matt  Peasley  off  the  coast  of  Formosa; 
during  that  period  no  further  news  had  been  received 
in  Cappy  Ricks'  office,  although  the  diligent  Skinner, 
aided  and  abetted  by  the  waterfront  reporters,  man 
aged  to  have  a  piece  of  cheering  information  for 
Florry  about  every  two  weeks.  And,  in  order  to  fore 
stall  any  possibility  of  some  garrulous  girl  friend,  with 
a  male  relative  in  the  shipping  business,  "spilling  the 
beans,"  as  Cappy  expressed  it,  the  old  man  had  taken 
a  house  in  the  country,  and  came  to  the  office  only 
twice  a  week  to  mourn  for  his  lost  Matthew  and  glean 
what  little  comfort  he  could  from  the  empty  words  of 
hope  Mr.  Skinner  dispensed  so  lavishly. 

"If  we  can  only  keep  Florry  buoyed  up  with  hope 
until  the  baby  comes !"  Cappy  would  groan.  "She's 
worried;  but,  strange  to  say,  Skinner,  she  hasn't  the 
slightest  idea  he's  in  any  danger.  Those  fake  cable 
grams  and  reports  of  ships  speaking  Matt — each  time 
closer  to  home — have  done  the  trick,  Skinner.  Of 
course  the  boy's  dead,  and  I  killed  him;  but  Florry — 
well,  she  took  a  trip  on  the  Retriever  and  knows  how 
safe  she  is,  and  I've  had  a  lot  of  old  sailing  skippers 
down  to  visit  me,  and  primed  them  to  tell  her  just  how 
they  would  get  away  with  such  a  proposition  as  Matt's 
— and  how  easy  it  would  be.  Besides,  she  knows  Matt 

had  some  plague  prophylactic  aboard " 

183 


184  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Yes ;  and  Fve  told  her  she  mustn't  show  the  white 
feather — for  your  sake,"  Mr.  Skinner  interrupted; 
"and  I  think  she's  sensible  enough  to  know  she  mustn't 
permit  herself  to  show  it — for  the  baby's  sake." 

Cappy  bowed  his  head  and  shook  like  a  hooked  fish. 

"When  the  baby's  two  weeks  old  I'll  tell  her,"  he 
moaned.  "Oh,  Skinner,  Skinner,  my  dear  boy,  this  is 
going  to  kill  me !  I  won't  last  long  now,  Skinner.  All 
my  fault!  I  had  to  go  butting  in.  That  girl's  heart 
is  breaking  with  anxiety.  When  she  comes  down  to 
breakfast,  Skinner,  I  can  see  she's  been  crying  all 
night." 

"Horrible!"  Mr.  Skinner  murmured.  "Horrible! 
We  can  only  hope." 

On  the  twelfth  of  September  Florry's  baby  was  born. 
It  was  a  boy,  and  a  bouncing  boy  at  that ;  and  Cappy 
Ricks  forgot  for  the  moment  he  had  rendered  that 
baby  fatherless,  and  came  up  to  the  city  to  report  the 
news  to  Skinner. 

"Well,  Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  announced  with 
just  a  touch  of  his  old-time  jauntiness,  "little  Matthew 
just  arrived!  Everything  lovely." 

Mr.  Skinner  was  about  to  formulate  suitable  phrases 
of  congratulation  when  the  telephone  bell  rang.  It  was 
Jerry  Dooley  up  at  the  Merchants'  Exchange;  and  he 
was  all  excitement. 

"Hey,  Skinner,"  he  cried.  "The  Retriever  is  pass 
ing  in!" 

"No  !"  Mr.  Skinner  shrieked.     "It  isn't  possible !" 

"It  is !  She's  coming  in  the  Gate  now — she's  right 
under  the  lookout's  telescope;  and  there's  only  one 
man  on  deck " 

Mr.  Skinner  turned  to  Cappy  Ricks,  put  his  arms 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  185 

round  him  and  jerked  the  old  man  from  one  end  of  the 
office  to  the  other. 

j  "He's  safe,  he's  safe,  he's  safe,  he's  safe!"  he  howled 
indecorously.  "Matt's  sailing  her  in.  He's  sailing 
her  in " 

"You  scoundrel!"  Gappy  shrilled.  "Be  quiet!  Is 
she  sailing  in  or  towing " 

"She's  sailing  in." 

Gappy  Ricks  slumped  down  in  his  chair,  his  arms 
hanging  weakly  at  his  sides. 

"Yes,  Skinner,"  he  barely  whispered,  "Matt's  alive, 
after  all.  Nobody  else  would  have  the  consummate 
crust  to  sail  her  in  but  him.  Any  other  skipper  under 
heaven  would  have  hove  to  off  the  lightship  and  sent  in 
word  by  the  pilot  boat  to  send  out  a  tug.  Oh,  Lord,  I 
thank  Thee !  I'm  a  wicked,  foolish,  bone-headed  old 
man;  but  Lord,  I  do  thank  Thee — I  do,  indeed!" 

Half  an  hour  later  Gappy  Ricks  and  Mr.  Skinner, 
in  a  fast  motorboat,  came  flying  up  the  bay  and  caught 
sight  of  the  Retriever  loafing  lazily  past  Fort  Mason. 
On  she  came,  with  a  tiny  bone  in  her  teeth;  and  sud 
denly,  as  Gappy  peered  ahead  through  the  spray  that 
flew  in  over  the  bows  of  the  launch  and  drenched  him 
to  the  skin,  the  Retriever's  mainsail  was  lowered  rap 
idly.  The  vessel  was  falling  off  by  the  time  the  main 
sail  was  down  and  Gappy  and  Mr.  Skinner  saw  Matt 
run  aft,  steady  the  wheel  and  bring  the  vessel  up  on 
the  wind  again.  She  was  now  under  spanker  and  the 
headsails.  Matt  lashed  the  wheel  and  again  ran  for 
ward,  pausing  at  the  main-topmast-staysail  halyards 
to  cast  them  off  and  permit  the  sail  to  come  down  by 
the  run. 

On  to  the  topgallant  fo*:::astle  Matt  Peasley  leaped, 


186  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

praising  his  Maker  for  patent  anchors  on  the  Re 
triever.  With  a  hammer  he  knocked  out  the  stopper; 
the  starboard  anchor  dropped  and  the  red  rust  flew, 
from  her  hawsepipe  as  the  anchor  chain  screamed 
through  it.  With  his  hand  on  the  compressor  of  the 
windlass,  Matt  Peasley  snubbed  her  gently  to  the  forty- 
five  fathom  shackle,  cast  off  his  jib  halyards  to  let  the 
jib  slide  down  the  stay  by  its  own  weight,  raced  aft, 
and  gently  lowered  the  spanker  as  the  American 
barkentine  Retriever,  with  the  yellow  flag  flying  at  the 
fore,  swung  gently  to  anchor  on  the  quarantine 
grounds,  two  hundred  and  twenty-one  days  from 
Manila. 

Gappy  Ricks  turned  to  his  general  manager. 

"Pretty  work,  Skinner!"  he  said  huskily.  "I  guess 
there's  nothing  wrong  with  that  boy's  health.  Damn! 
The  quarantine  boat  will  beat  us  to  it !  Matt's  throw 
ing  the  Jacob's  ladder  over  the  side  for  them." 

"We  can't  board  her  until  she  passes  quaran 
tine "  Mr.  Skinner  began ;  but  Gappy  silenced  .him 

with  a  terrible  look. 

"The  word  can't,  Skinner,  was  eliminated  from  nr 
vocabulary  some  fifty  years  ago.  We  can — and  I  will 
You  needn't ;  but  I've  simply  got  to  !  Hey,  you !"— 1< 
the  launchman — "kick  her  wide  open  and  show  some 
speed." 

Despite  the  warning  cries  from  the  quarantine  oi 
cers  in  the  health  boat,  the  launch  ran  in  along  tl 
Retriever's  side;  Gappy  Ricks  grasped  the  Jacob's 
ladder  as  the  launch  rasped  by  and  climbed  up  with 
agility  that  caused  Mr.  Skinner  to  marvel.  As  his 
silk  hat  appeared  over  the  Retriever's  rail  a  wii 
bitten,  bewhiskered,  gaunt,  hungry-looking  semi-sava^ 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  187 

reached  down,  grasped  him  under  the  arms,  snaked 
him  inboard  and  hugged  him  to  his  heart. 
*  Silence  for  a  minute,  while  Gappy  Ricks'  thin  old 
shoulders  shook  and  heaved  as  from  some  internal 
spasm,  and  Matt  Peasley's  big  brown  hand  patted 
Cappy's  back.  Presently  he  said: 

"Well,  father-in-law " 

From  somewhere  in  Matt  Peasley's  whiskers  Cappy's 
voice  came  plaintively: 

"Not  father-in-law,  sonny.  New  title — this  morn 
ing — six  o'clock — nine — pounds — grandfather!  Eh? 
Yes ;  grandfather !  Grandpa  Ricks  !" 

"Boy  or  girl?"  Matt  Peasley  roared,  and  shook  the 
newly-elected  grandfather. 

"Boy!     Florry — fine — never  lost  hope!" 

A  port  health  officer  came  over  the  rail.  He  shook 
an  admonitory  finger  at  Gappy  Ricks. 

"Hey,  you !  Old  man,  you're  under  arrest — that  is, 
you're  in  quarantine,  and  you'll  have  to  stay  aboard 
this  ship  until  she's  fumigated.  Yes;  and  we'll  fumi 
gate  you,  too.  Whadje  mean  by  coming  aboard  ahead 
of  us?" 

"Cappy,"  Matt  Peasley  said,  "tell  that  person  to  go 
chase  himself!  Why,  there  hasn't  been  any  plague 
aboard  the  ship  in  nearly  five  months !" 

Cappy  looked  up  and  wiped  the  tears  of  joy  out  of 
his  whiskers. 

"Scoundrel!"  he  cackled.  "Infernal  young  scoun 
drel  !  What  do  you  mean  by  risking  my  Retriever,  sail 
ing  her  through  the  Gate  with  a  crew  of  one  man?" 

"Take  a  look  at  me !"  Matt  laughed.  "I'm  all  hands ! 
And  didn't  I  prove  I'm  enough  men  to  handle  her?  The 
pilots  wouldn't  board  me,  and  by  sailing  her  in  myself 


188  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

I  saved  pilotage  and  salvage  claims.  I  lost  the  lower 
topsail  and  the  consignees  are  going  to  find  a  shortage 
in  those  hardwood  logs;  but  that's  all — except  that  I 
haven't  had  a  decent  meal  in  God  knows  when.  Say, 
Cappy,  what  does  he  look  like?  A  Peasley  or  a  Ricks?" 

"Both,"  Cappy  chirped  diplomatically.  "Matt,  are 
you  all  over  the  blue-water  fever?" 

"You  bet!"  he  declared.  "No  more  relief  jobs  for 
me.  I've  had  plenty,  although  it  might  have  been 
worse.  It  was  lonely  and  sometimes  I  thought  I  was 
going  crazy.  Used  to  talk  out  loud  to  myself!  I  had 
some  awful  weather;  but  I  just  tucked  her  head  under 
her  wing  and  let  her  roll,  and  after  I  ran  into  the 
northeast  monsoon,  and  later  into  the  westerly  winds, 
I  had  it  easier  and  got  more  rest.  You  know,  Cappy, 
when  a  ship  is  sailing  on  the  wind,  if  you  lash  her 
helm  a  little  bit  below  amidships  she'll  steer  herself. 
Slow  work,  but — I  got  here;  and,  now  that  I'm  here, 
I'm  going  to  stay  here. 

"Of  course,  Cappy,"  he  added,  "I've  just  got  to 
have  something  with  sails  to  play  with;  but  no  more 
offshore  sailing  in  mine — that  is — well,  I'm  going  to 
stay  home  for  a  long  time — after  a  while,  maybe — 
and  meantime  I'm  going  to  build  a  little  schooner 
yacht " 

"For  the  love  of  Mike,  do !"  Cappy  pleaded.  "I'll 
be  stuck  in  quarantine  with  you  for  a  couple  of  days 
and  we'll  kill  time  drawing  up  a  rough  set  of  plans. 
And  when  that  schooner  yacht  is  ready,  Matt,  I'll  tell 
you  what  I  want  you  to  do." 

"What,  Cappy?" 

"Send  the  bill  to  grandpa,  Matthew !" 

"If  I  hadn't  been  a  case-hardened  old  fool  Fd  have 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  189 

cheered  you  on  when  you  wanted  to  build  that  schooner 
yacht  last  year.  I'd  have  saved  myself  a  world  of 
grief." 

He  placed  his  hand  gently  on  Matt's  shoulder  and 
his  face  was  ineffably  sad  as  he  continued :  "Of  course, 
with  you  away  and  your  fate  undecided,  as  it  were, 
Matt,  that  infernal  Skinner  wasn't  worth  two  hoots  in 
a  hollow.  Why,  the  boy  flopped  around  the  office  like 
a  rooster  with  its  head  off,  and  as  a  result  I've  had  to 
come  out  of  my  retirement  and  keep  an  eye  on  things. 
Thank  God,  I  can  let  go  now.  Really,  Matt,  you  have 
no  idea  how  I  long  to  separate  myself  from  the  hurly- 
burly  of  California  street.  What  I  want  is  peace  and 
seclusion " 

"You  can  have  my  share  of  that  commodity  for  the 
remainder  of  my  natural  life,"  Matt  laughed  happily, 
"I  want  noise  and  people.  I  want  screaming  and 
yelling  and  fighting  and  risks  and  profits  and  losses 
and  liars  and  scoundrels  and  honest  men  all  inextri 
cably  mixed."  He  tossed  his  great  sun-tanned  arms 
above  his  head.  "Lord,  I  want  Life,"  he  half  shouted. 

Cappy  sighed.  These  young  pups!  When  they 
grow  to  see  life  as  old  dogs 

"Well,  Matt,  all  I've  got  to  say  is  that  the  first 
man  that  butts  into  my  private  office  and  starts 
unloading  a  cargo  of  grief  on  me,  is  going  to  get  busted 
between  the  eyes  with  a  paper  weight.  I'm  through 
with  grief  and  woe.  I  don't  give  a  hoot  what  happens 
to  the  world  or  anybody  in  it.  I  want  peace  and  a  rest. 
I  can  afford  it  and  wouldn't  I  be  a  first-class  idiot  not 
to  take  it  while  the  taking  is  good,  Matt?" 

"No  more  mixing  in  the  shipping  end,  eh?"  Matt 
asked  hopefully. 


190 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


Cappy  raised  his  right  hand  solemnly.  "Never 
again,  Matt.  I'm  through  with  ships  and  sailors  and 
cargoes  and  the  whole  cussed  Blue  Star  fleet  can  sink 
and  be  damned  to  it,  but  I'll  not  lift  a  hand  to  save  it. 
Fm  THROUGH." 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

ALAS!     Man  proposes,  but  God  disposes.     Gappy 
had  smoked  his  post-prandial  cigar  next  day  and 
was  in  the  midst  of  his  mid-afternoon  siesta,  when  the 
buzzer  on  his  desk  waked  him  with  its  insistent  buzzing. 
He  reached  for  the  telephone. 

"My  dear,"  he  reproved  his  private  exchange  opera 
tor,  "how  often  have  I  told  you  not  to  disturb  me 
between  two  and  three  o'clock?" 

"I  knew  you  wouldn't  mind  being  disturbed  this 
afternoon,  Mr.  Ricks.  Your  old  friend  Mr.  Gurney, 
of  New  York,  is  calling." 

"Old  Joe  Gurney?  By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet! 
Show  him  in."  Gappy  was  at  the  door  to  meet 
his  visitor  when  the  latter  entered.  Mr  Joseph  Gur 
ney,  senior  partner  of  the  firm  of  Gurney  &  Harlan, 
was,  like  Gappy  Ricks,  a  shipping  man  and  a  Down- 
Easter.  He  and  Gappy  Ricks  had  been  boyhood 
friends  in  Thomaston,  Maine,  and  Gurney  &  Harlan 
were  the  agents  and  controlling  owners  of  the  Red 
Funnel  Line  plying  between  New  York  and  ports  on  the 
West  Coast. 

"Well,  Joe,  you  doddering  old  pirate !"  cried  Gappy 
Ricks  affectionately.  "Come  in  and  rest  your  hands 
and  feet.  I'm  tremendously  glad  to  see  you.  When  did 
you  drift  into  town?" 

He  shook  hands  with  Gurney  and  steered  him  toward 
a  chair. 

191 


192  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Ten  minutes  ago,  Alden,  my  boy.  Delighted  to  see 
you  again,  and  particularly  pleased  to  see  how  care 
lessly  you  carry  your  years.  I'm  three  months  younger 
than  you — and  I  feel  like  the  last  rose  of  summer." 

"You  look  it,  Joe.  Take  a  leaf  out  of  my  book  and 
let  the  young  fellows  'tend  to  business  for  you.  Don't 
let  worry  ride  over  you  in  the  shank  of  your  old  age, 
my  boy.  I  never  do.  Haven't  paid  a  bit  of  attention  to 
business  in  the  last  ten  years,  and  that's  why  at  my 
age  I'm  looking  so  fit." 

"You'll  live  to  be  a  hundred,  Alden." 

Gappy  smiled. 

"Well,"  he  declared,  "I'm  going  to  live  wnne  I  have 
the  time.  I  never  expect  to  be  a  walking  corpse  just 
stalling  round  in  an  effort  to  defer  settlement  with 
the  undertaker,  and  I  won't  be  a  dead  one  until  the 
neighbors  hear  a  quartet  singing  Lead  Kindly  Light 
out  at  my  house — Joe  you  look  worried.  Anything 
gone  wrong  with  you,  old  friend?  Need  some  money? 
Have  you  married  a  young  wife?" 

"It's  Joey,"  Gurney  confessed  miserably. 

"What?    My  godson,  little  Joey  Gurney?" 

"He's  big  Joey  Gurney  now." 

"Yes,  and  a  fine  boy,  Joe — no  thanks  to  you.  His 
mother's  influence  was  strong  enough  to  counteract  any 
impulses  for  crime  he  might  have  inherited  from  his 
father." 

Gurney  smiled  sadly  at  Cappy  Ricks'  badinage. 

"He  is  a  fine  boy,  Alden,  but — he's  only  a  boy,  and 
I'm  afraid  he's  going  to  make  hash  of  his  young  life 
before  it's  fairly  started." 

"Booze?" 

"No." 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  193 

"Well,  then  where  did  he  first  meet  this  woman?'* 

Joe  Gurney,  Senior,  hitched  his  chair  close  to  his 
friend's  and  laid  an  impressive  hand  on  Cappy's  knee. 

"Alden,"  he  said  feelingly,  "you  and  I  have  been 
friends,  man  and  boy,  for  about  sixty-five  years.  I 
believe  we  were  five  years  old  when  we  robbed  Deacon 
Follansbee's  beehive  and  got  stung  to  death." 

"Yes,  and  we've  both  been  getting  stung  more  or  less 
ever  since,  only  somehow  we  still  manage  to  recover  and 
be  none  the  worse  for  the  experience.  At  least,  Joe,  we 
learned  about  bees.  When  it  comes  to  boys,  however, 
I've  still  got  my  experience  coming.  My  little  chap 
died  when  he  was  twelve,  you  know.  I've  never  quite 
gotten  over  his  loss ;  in  fact,  Joe,  I  was  dreaming  of  him 
a  minute  ago  when  you  called." 

"You  had  him  long  enough,  Alden,  to  realize  how  I 
feel  about  Joey." 

Gappy  nodded.  "Let's  see,"  he  answered,  reflectively 
pulling  his  whiskers,  "Joey  must  be  about  twenty-four 
years  old  now,  isn't  he?" 

"Twenty-four  last  Tuesday;  and  at  twenty-five  he 
comes  into  his  mother's  fortune.  I've  managed  his 
little  nest  egg  pretty  well,  Alden;  invested  it  all  in  the 
vessel  property  of  Gurney  &  Harlan,  and  since  the 
war  started  I've  swelled  what  originally  was  a  quarter 
of  a  million  to  about  a  million  and  a  half.  His  stock 
in  the  Red  Funnel  Line  is  worth  a  million  at  the  very 
least,  and  the  remaining  half  million  is  represented  by 
cold  cash  in  bank  and  bonds  that  can  be  converted  into 
cash  overnight." 

"Hum-m-m!  Harumph-h-h!  Quite  a  fortune  for  a 
youth  of  twenty-five  to  be  intrusted  with.  I'll  bet 
somebody  will  take  it  away  from  him  before  he's  thirty." 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"That's  a  safe  bet,  Alden.  He  has  a  candidate  for 
his  money  on  his  trail  right  now." 

"And  he  doesn't  realize  it?" 

"Alden,  he's  only  twenty-four  years  old.  What  does 
a  boy  know  at  twenty-four?" 

"Well,  Joe,  you  and  I  had  accumulated  a  heap  of 
experience  and  hard  knocks  at  that  age,  and  I  seem 
to  remember  we  each  had  a  little  money  we'd  managed 
to  save  here  and  there.  I  don't  agree  with  you  at  all 
on  this  twenty-four-year-old  excuse.  My  son-in-law, 
Matt  Peasley — you  remember  the  Peasleys  of  Thomas- 
ton;  Matt's  a  nephew  of  Ethan,  who  was  lost  off  the 
main  yard  of  the  Martha  Peasley — was  holding  a  mas 
ter's  ticket  for  sail,  any  ocean  and  any  tonnage,  before 
he  was  twenty-one.  He's  not  much  older  than  your 
Joey  right  now,  but,  nevertheless,  he's  president  of 
the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  and  worth  a  million 
and  a  half,  every  dollar  of  which  he  has  made  by  his 
own  energy  and  ability." 

"Well,  of  course,  Alden,  there  are  exceptions  to  every 
rule." 

"Not  if  you  raise  'em  right  and  you've  got  the  right 
kind  of  stock  to  work  on  and  the  boy  is  healthy  and 
normal.  Now  I  know  your  Joey  comes  from  the  right 
stock ;  I  know  his  mother  raised  him  right  until  he  was 
sixteen  when  the  good  Lord  took  her  away  from  you 
both;  and  I  know  he  is  healthy  and  normal.  Hasn't 
he  proved  that  by  falling  in  love?  The  only  conclu 
sion  I  can  draw,  therefore,  is  that  you've  made  a  mon 
key  out  of  him,  Joe  Gurney." 

"Perhaps  I  have,  Alden;  perhaps  I  have,"  Gurney 
replied  sadly. 

"No  'perhaps'  about  it.    I  know  you  have.    You  sent 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  195 

him  to  college  and  gave  him  ten  thousand  dollars  a 
year  to  spend.  If  you  wanted  to  give  him  a  fine  educa 
tion  and  turn  out  a  man  and  a  gentleman  you  might 
have  gotten  him  into  the  Naval  Academy  at  Annapolis, 
where  he  would  have  learned  something  of  ships  and 
graduated  with  a  master's  ticket;  after  serving  a  few 
years  and  getting  the  corners  knocked  off  him  he  could 
have  resigned  and  you  would  have  had  a  sane,  depend 
able  man  to  sit  in  at  your  desk  when  you're  gone. 
By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  Joe  Gurney,  you 
make  me  sick !  You're  like  every  other  damphool  Ameri 
can  father  who  accumulates  a  few  million  dollars  in 
excess  of  his  legitimate  needs  and  then  gets  all  puffed 
up  with  the  notion  he's  got  to  give  his  son  all  the  so- 
called  advantages  his  own  parents  were  too  poor  to 
afford  him — or  too  sensible.  The  result  is  you  turn  out 
an  undeveloped  or  over-developed  boob,  too  proud  to 
work  and  not  able  to  take  a  real  man's  place  in  the 
world  because  he  hasn't  been  taught  how.  And  in  the 
course  of  time  he  marries  a  female  boob  who  has  been 
raised  according  to  the  same  general  specifications,  and 
nine  times  out  of  ten  she's  too  refined  to  be  bothered 
with  a  family.  And  presently  there's  a  trip  out  to 
Reno  and  the  little  squib  in  the  paper  and — er — 
ahem !  Drat  your  picture,  Joe,  you're  the  responsible 
party.  You  created  a  ten-thousand-dollar-a-year  par 
asite  on  the  body  politic  while  your  boy  was  still  in  his 
teens,  and  now  you  want  to  know  what  the  devil  to  do 
about  it,  don't  you?" 

"That's  exactly  what  I  want  to  know,  Alden,"  Gur 
ney  confessed  miserably,  "and  I've  crossed  the  con 
tinent  to  get  your  advice.  I  haven't  very  many  real 
friends — the  kind  I  can  open  my  heart  to " 


196  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Tut,  tut,  Joe.  Enough  of  vain  repining.  Now 
then,  old  friend,  let's  get  to  the  bottom  of  this  thing 
and  see  if  we  can't  buy  this  wreck  in  from  the  under 
writers,  salvage  it  and  put  it  in  commission  again. 
Never  say  die,  Joe !  Where  there's  a  will  there's  a_ 
lawsuit',  or  a  heartache — particularly  if  the  estate 
makes  it  worth  while.  Now  then,  Joe,  you  must  realize 
that  it's  the  fashion  nowadays,  when  a  fellow  has  to 
consult  a  specialist,  to  give  his  personal  and  family 
history  for  three  generations  back  before  receiving 
treatment.  So  if  I  am  to  diagnose  Joey's  case  I'll 
have  to  have  a  history  of  Joey.  Now  then !  He  gradu 
ated  from  college  at  the  age  of  twenty-two  did  he  not  ?" 

"He  didn't  graduate,  Alden.  He  was  requested  to 
leave." 

"Hum-m-m!    I  didn't  know  that.    What  for?" 

"General  uselessness  and  animal  spirits,  I  suppose. 
It  wasn't  anything  dishonorable.  The  main  contribu 
tory  cause  was  an  alleged  poem  lampooning  some  in 
dividual  they  called  Prexy." 

"Hum-m-m!  And  since  leaving  college  what  has  he 
done?" 

"I've  had  him  in  my  office." 

"Joe,  answer  my  question.  I  know  you've  had  him  in 
your  office.  But  what  has  he  done?  Has  he  earned  his 
salary?" 

"I'm  afraid  he  hasn't,  Alden.  Somehow  golf  and 
tennis  and  week-end  parties  and  yachting  and  big-game 
hunting  in  Alaska  and  tarpon  fishing  in  Florida  sort  of 
interfere  with  business." 

"Well,  that  isn't  much  of  a  crime,  Joe.  I  never  had 
time  to  do  those  highly  enjoyable  things  and  I  couldn't 
afford  them.  When  I  could  afford  them  and  had  time 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  197 

to  do  them  I  was  too  old.  You  say  the  boy  is  fond  of 
yachting?" 

"It's  his  greatest  hobby.  In  his  taste  for  salt  water 
he  at  least  resembles  his  ancestors.  The  Gurneys  were 
all  sailors  and  shipping  men." 

"Is  he  a  good  yachtsman,  Joe?" 

"He  has  a  schooner  that's  a  hundred  and  six  feet 
over  all  and  he  seems  to  win  pretty  regularly  with  her. 
I  never  knew  him  to  get  worse  than  second  place  in 
all  the  races  he  has  entered." 

"Too  bad,"  Cappy  Ricks  murmured  sadly.  "A 
noble  ambition  absolutely  misdirected.  He  would  have 
been  a  skipper  and,  lastly,  a  good  shipping  man  if  you 
had  only  managed  him  like  a  sensible  father  should. 
Now  about  this  girl  he's  in  love  with?" 

"That  happened  about  three  months  ago.  He  met 
her  at  one  of  those  roof-garden,  midnight  cabaret, 
turkey-trot  palaces  in  New  York " 

"Yes,  I  know.  I  always  take  in  the  sights  when  I 
go  to  New  York,  but  the  last  time  I  was  at  that  one  up 
near  Fifty-fourth  Street  the  noise  bothered  me.  And 
the  show  was  very  poor;  in  fact,  after  seeing  it  I 
made  up  my  mind  I  was  off  cabaret  stuff  for  keeps." 

"You  ancient  scalawag!  What  were  you  doing  in  a 
place  like  that?" 

"Seeing  life  as  it  ought  not  to  be,  of  course.  Your 
boy  Joey  took  me  up  there,  by  the  way.  In-fer-nal 
young  scoundrel !  He  showed  me  the  town  and  we  had 
quite  a  time  together." 

Joe  Gurney's  old  eyes  popped  with  amazement. 

"You  went  batting  round  with  my  Joey — an  old  ruin 
like  you?" 

"Why  not?     We  behaved  ourselves,  and  besides  I 


198  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

always  trot  a  heat  with  the  young  fellows  whenever 
I  get  a  chance.  It  keeps  me  young.  I  enjoyed  Joey  a 
heap,  although  I  could  see  he  was  a  jolly  young  jackass. 
Moreover,  I'm  his  godfather,  and  I  guess  it  was  all 
right  for  me  to  tag  along  and  see  to  it  that  my  godson 
didn't  get  into  deep  water  close  to  the  shore,  wasn't 
it?  Don't  you  ever  step  out  with  Joey  and  get  your 
nose  wet?" 

"Certainly  not!" 

Cappy  Ricks  smiled  wistfully. 

"If  I  had  a  son  I'd  pal  up  with  him,"  he  declared. 
"I'd  want  to  get  out  with  him  and  raise  a  little  digni 
fied  hell  once  in  a  while,  just  to  be  a  human  being  and 
keep  him  from  being  a  mollycoddle.  Ahem !  Harumph. 
So  he  flagged  this  damsel  in  the  leg  show,  eh?" 

Joe  Gurney  nodded  miserably. 

"Have  you  given  her  the  once  over?"  Cappy  de 
manded. 

"Yes,  I  went  up  there  one  night.  I  was  afraid  some 
body  would  see  me,  so  I  took  along  Joey's  aunt,  Ma 
tilda.  We  saw  the  young  woman.  She  does  a  dance 
specialty — an  alleged  Hawaiian  hula-hula.  It's  fake 
from  start  to  finish." 

"You  show  a  guilty  technical  knowledge  of  the  hula, 
Joe,"  Cappy  reminded  him.  "But  passing  that,  what's 
the  latest  report  on  the  situation?" 

"Horrible,  Alden,  horrible !"  replied  Joe  Gurney. 

"Careful,  Joe,  careful!  Many  a  wheat-straw  skirt 
and  sharks'-teeth  necklace  may  conceal  a  pure  and 
honest  heart." 

"Well,  she's  been  married  twice  and  divorced  once, 
to  begin  with,  and " 

"That's  a-plenty,  Joe." 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  199 

"And  she  has  just  completed  her  contract  in  the  show 
and  gone  out  to  Reno  to  acquire  a  six  months'  residence 
n  order  to  get  rid  of  husband  number  two  so  she  can 
take  on  Joey." 

"Who  told  you  all  this?" 

"I  found  it  out — by  asking." 

"Have  you  told  Joey?" 

"No." 

"Does  he  know  it?" 

Gurney  nodded. 

"I  had  one  of  his  young  friends,  whom  I  can  trust, 
tip  him  off  in  confidence.  The  news  didn't  make  any 
difference  to  Joey.  He  asked  her  about  it,  and  she  ex 
plained  it  all  away  to  his  entire  satisfaction." 

"I  dare  say.  And  you  haven't  given  any  indication 
to  your  son  that  you're  on  to  him  and  his  love  affair?" 

"I  thought  best  to  pretend  ignorance,  pending  my 
arrival  at  a  solution  of  the  difficulty." 

"Therein  you  showed  a  gleam  of  real  intelligence. 
Having  humored  your  boy  all  his  life  you  could  not  ex 
pect  to  cross  him  in  his  first  love  affair  and  get  away 
with  it.  No,  sir-ree !  The  thing  to  do  is  to  put  the 
skids  under  Joey  and  his  lady  love  before  they  know 
you  know  it.  Tell  me  more  about  her,  however,  before 
I  begin  making  skids  and  skid  grease." 

"She  is  thirty-one  years  old " 

Cappy  Ricks  threw  up  both  hands. 

"Farewell,  O  my  countrymen !"  he  murmured. 

"She  has  two  children — one  by  her  first  husband 
and  one  by  her  second.  They're  living  with  her  mother. 
She  supports  them  from  the  proceeds  of  her  hula 
dancing." 


200  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Score  a  white  mark  for  her,  Joe.  Is  she  a  good 
looker?" 

"A  brunette,  Alden,  and  Joey's  Aunt  Matilda  ad 
mitted  against  her  will  that  she  was  a  beauty.  My 
lawyer  tells  me,  however,  that  she  hasn't  an  ounce  of 
brains,  and  proclaims  the  fact  by  laughing  loudly  wh( 
there  is  nothing  particularly  worth  laughing  at." 

"I  imagine  you've  had  a  detective  agency  investigat 
ing  her." 

"I  have.  She  has  little  education  and  no  refine 
ment;  her  people  are  very  ordinary.  Her  father  is 
a  whitewing  in  Philadelphia  and  is  separated  from  her 
mother,  who  keeps  a  boarding  house  in  Muncie,  In 
diana." 

"I'm  afraid,  Joe,  she  won't  do  for  your  daughter-in- 
law,"  Gappy  Ricks  opined  slowly.  "But  don't  worry, 
my  boy.  You've  come  all  the  way  from  New  York 
to  confide  in  me  and  get  my  advice,  and  somehow  I 
have  a  sneaking  notion  you've  come  to  the  right  shop. 
If  there's  anybody  calculated  to  put  a  crimp  in  love's 
young  dream,  I'm  that  individual." 

"I  knew  Joey  and  you  were  good  friends,  and  be 
sides,  you're  his  godfather.  He  thinks  a  lot  of  you, 
Alden,  and  I  kind  of  thought  maybe  you  might  come 
East  with  me,  see  the  boy,  get  him  to  confide  in  you 
and — er — sort  of  advise  him  in  the  way  he  should 
go.  I'm — er — well,  Alden,  I'm  afraid  I  feel  too  badly 
about  this  to  talk  to  Joey.  I  might  lose  my  temper, 
and  besides — besides,  he's  all  I  have  and  he  reminds  me 
so  much  of  his  mother  that  I " 

"Yes,  yes,  I  understand,  Joe.  Leave  it  to  me  and 
I'll  advise  with  him.  Yes,  I  will — with  an  ax  handle! 
And  I'll  go  East  with  you  and  tie  knots  in  his  tail — 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  201 

only  he  won't  know  anything  about  it.  It  may  cost  you 
a  little  money,  but  I  assume  expense  is  no  object." 

"It  would  be  cheap  at  a  million." 

"Where  that  boy  and  your  money  are  concerned 
you're  such  an  ass,  Joe,  I'm  almost  tempted  to  charge 
you  a  million  extra  for  the  operation.  However,  con 
sidering  Deacon  Follansbee's  beehive,  and  Joey's  mother 
and  my  godson " 

Old  Joe  Gurney  took  Gappy  Ricks'  hand  in  both  of 
his,  that  trembled  so  with  age  and  anxiety. 

"Dear  old  Alden,"  he  declared.  "I  knew  you  wouldn't 
fail  me." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

For  a  long  time  after  old  Joe  Gurney  had  terminal 
his  visit  Cappy  Ricks  sat  in  the  position  whic 
with  him  alwaj^s  denoted  intense  mental  concentratio] 
He  had  sunk  low  in  his  swivel  chair  and  swung  his 
legs  to  the  top  of  his  desk;  his  head  was  bowed  on 
breast  and  his  eyes  were  closed. 

Suddenly  he  started  as  if  snake-bitten,  sat  up 
his  desk  and  reached  for  the  telephone. 

"Get  me  the  West   Coast   Trading  Company," 
ordered  the  private  exchange  operator,  "and  tell  Mi 
J.  Augustus  Redell  I  want  to  speak  to  him. 

Redell  answered  presently. 

^Gus,  my  dear  young  friend,"  Cappy  began  briskly,, 
"I  want  you  to  do  me  a  favor,  and  in  so  doing  I  think 
you'll  find  you  are  going  to  perform  one  for  yourself 
also." 

"Good  news,  Cappy.     Consider  it  done." 

"Thank  you,  my  boy,  but  this  particular  favor  isn't! 
done  quite  so  quickly.  I  want  you  to  tell  that  Peruvian 
partner  of  yours,  Live  Wire  Luiz  Almeida  to  dig  up 
a  specification  for  a  cargo  of  fir  to  be  discharged  on 
lighters  at  some  open  roadstead  on  the  West  Coast, 
and  the  more  open  the  port  and  the  more  difficult  it  is 
to  discharge  there;  and  the  harder  it  is  to  get  any 
sane  shipowner  to  charter  a  vessel  to  deliver  a  cargo 
there,  the  better  I'll  be  pleased.  Surely,  Gus,  you  must 
have  a  customer  down  on  the  West  Coast  in  some  such 

202 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  203 

port  as  I  describe,  who  is  actually  watering  at  the 
mouth  for  a  cargo  of  lumber  and  is  unable  to  place 
it  with  a  mill  that  will  guarantee  delivery?  Look  into 
the  matter,  Augustus,  and  see  what  you  can  do  for  me." 

"Do  you  want  to  furnish  such  a  cargo  from  one  of 
the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company's  northern  mills 
and  freight  it  in  one  of  your  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company  vessels?" 

"No,  I  don't  want  to  do  it,"  Cappy  replied;  "but  in 
this  particular  case  the  acceptance  of  such  a  cargo 
and  the  freighting  of  it  via  a  Blue  Star  windjammer, 
even  though  the  usual  demurrage  at  such  discharging 
ports  will  cause  the  vessel  a  loss,  is  a  consummation 
devoutly  to  be  wished.  Ordinarily,  if  you  made  such 
a  proposition  to  me  I'd  call  in  the  boys  from  the 
general  office  and  tell  them  to  throw  you  out,  but — well, 
in  this  case  I'm  willing  to  stand  the  loss,  Augustus." 

"Yes,  you  are — not.  Somebody  else  will  recompense 
you  for  any  loss,  Cappy  Ricks,  never  fear.  Do  you 
want  the  West  Coast  Trading  Company  to  give  you 
a  bonus  for  accepting  our  order?" 

"No,  my  boy.  I'll  make  Skinner  sell  you  the  lumber 
at  the  regular  base  price  at  the  mill,  plus  insurance  and 
freight  to  point  of  discharge.  And  I  won't  stick  you 
too  deep  on  the  freight,  even  in  wartime." 

"There's  something  wrong  with  you  this  morning, 
Cappy,"  Redell  declared,  highly  mystified.  "You're 
too  obliging.  However,  I'm  not  to  be  outgamed.  I 
have  a  specification  for  a  cargo  of  half  a  million  feet  for 
delivery  at  Sobre  Vista,  Peru;  I've  been  trying  for  a 
month  to  place  the  order  and  nobody  will  accept  it  be 
cause  nobody  wants  to  guarantee  delivery.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  purchasers  have  been  unable  to  get  any 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


ship  owner  to  charter  them  a  vessel  to  go  to  Sobre 
Vista  without  a  guaranty  of  a  perfectly  prohibitive 
rate  of  demurrage  per  diem;  consequently  I  had  just 
about  abandoned  my  efforts  to  place  the  order." 

"Fine  business,  Gus.  And  is  Sobre  Vista  a  rotten 
port  at  which  to  discharge?" 

"It's  vile,  Gappy.  It's  an  open  roadstead  and  the 
vessel  lies  oif-shore  and  discharges  into  lighters.  About 
four  days  a  week  the  surf  is  so  high  the  lighters  can 
not  lie  alongside  the  ship  or  be  run  up  on  the  beach 
without  being  ruined,  and  to  complicate  the  situation 
they  only  have  two  or  three  lighters  at  the  port.  Labor 
is  scarce,  too,  and  the  few  cargadores  a  skipper  can 
hire  have  a  habit  of  working  two  days  and  staying 
drunk  for  the  remainder  of  the  week  on  the  proceeds 
of  those  two  days  of  labor.  So  you  can  see  for  your 
self  that  discharge  in  Sobre  Vista  is  very  hard  on 
the  skipper's  nerves,  and  that  if  he  can  work  two  days 
a  week  he's  in  luck.  And  when  we  deduct  from  those 
two  days  all  the  national  holidays  and  holy  days  and 
saints'  feast  days  that  have  to  be  duly  celebrated,  not 
to  mention  the  three  hundred  and  sixty-five  days  in  the 
year  the  populace  doesn't  feel  like  exerting  itself — well, 
Gappy,  I  couldn't  give  you  anything  worse  than  Sobre 
Vista  if  you  paid  me  for  it." 

"May  the  good  Lord  bless  you,  Augustus !  Come 
down  and  do  business  with  Skinner  on  the  cargo.  Get 
him  to  quote  you  a  price  f.o.b.  ship's  tackles  at  the 
mill  dock  and  tell  him  you'll  furnish  the  tonnage  when 
the  cargo  is  ready  for  delivery.  There's  no  sense 
in  worrying  poor  Skinner  until  his  worries  are  due,  and 
when  I  send  a  Blue  Star  schooner  to  load  your  cargo 
for  Sobre  Vista  I'm  going  to  have  to  fight  him  and  mv 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  205 

on-in-law,  Matt  Peasley.    But  leave  it  to  me,  Gus.    I'll 
•uarantee  the  tonnage." 

"This  is  certainly  wonderful,"  the  grateful  Redell 
bserved.  "Thank  you,  Gappy.  What  I'll  do  to  those 
*eruvian  customers  of  mine  on  price  will  be  a  shame 
.nd  a  disgrace.  Are  you  going  to  stick  me  for  any 
lemurrage  on  the  vessel,  Gappy?  Because  if  you  are, 
'11  have  to  stick  my  customers  in  order  to  get  out 
lean." 

"No  demurrage,  Gus,  not  a  penny." 
"Bully!     Then  I'll  stick  my  customers  anyhow.     It 
nakes  the  profit  all  the  greater,  and  since  they  expect 
o  pay  a  reasonable  demurrage  I  see  no  reason  why 
i!  should  disappoint  them." 

When  Redell  had  hung  up  Gappy  summoned  into  his 
presence  Captain  Matt  Peasley. 

"Matt,"  he  queried,  "what  schooners  have  you  got 
liue  at  any  one  of  our  northern  mills  within  the  next 
thirty  days?" 

Matt  Peasley  pondered  and  counted  on  his  big 
fingers.  "The  Tyee  will  be  in  from  Valparaiso  about 
that  time,"  he  answered. 

"Have  you  got  her  chartered?" 
"Oh,  no.    We're  using  her  in  our  own  trade.    Skinner 
will  have  a  cargo  ready  for  her  by  the  time  she  gets 
back,  although  we  don't  know  yet  where  we  will  send 
her." 

"Well,  Matt,  you  tell  Skinner  he  can't  have  her  and 
to  look  around  for  some  other  vessel  to  take  her  place. 
I  may  give  her  to  him  at  the  last  minute,  but  then  again 
I  may  not.  When  she  arrives  at  the  mill,  Matthew, 
my  boy,  tie  her  up  to  the  mill  dock  to  await  my  pleas- 


206  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Why,  what  the  devil  are  you  going  to  do  with  the 
Tyee?"  Matt  demanded,  astounded  beyond  measure. 

"I  might  want  to  take  a  cruise  for  my  health  and  use 
the  Tyee  as  a  pleasure  boat,"  Gappy  answered  enig 
matically.  "They  tell  me  she's  as  fast  as  a  yacht  in 
a  breeze  of  wind." 

"The  longer  I'm  acquainted  with  you,  father-in-law," 
Matt  Peasley  declared,  "the  less  I  know  you.  You  can 
have  your  Tyee,  but  for  every  day  she  is  held  awaiting 
your  pleasure  your  personal  account  will  be  charged 
with  something  in  three  figures.  I'll  figure  out  her 
average  profit  per  day  for  the  last  five  voyages  and 
soak  you  accordingly." 

"Fair  enough,"  quoth  Gappy  Ricks. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

Three  weeks  later  Alden  P.  Ricks  arrived  in  New 
York.  After  he  had  been  driven  to  his  hotel  and  had 
removed  the  stains  of  travel  he  telephoned  the  office 
of  Gurney  &  Harlan  and  got  Gurney,  Senior,  on  the 
line. 

"Well,  I'm  here,  Joe,"  he  announced.  "Have  you 
followed  my  instructions  and  cut  Joey  off  at  the 
pockets?" 

"I  have,  Alden.  He's  rather  desperate  as  a  result, 
and  has  been  trying  to  borrow  money  by  hypothecating 
the  inheritance  due  him  on  his  twenty-fifth  birthday. 
You  see,  I  didn't  give  him  a  second's  notice;  just  told 
him  he  was  spending  too  much  time  in  play  and  too 
much  money  for  pleasure,  and  that  until  he  came  into 
his  private  fortune  he  would  have  to  earn  any  money 
he  desired  to  spend.  I  have  been  very  firm." 

"That's  the  stuff,  Joe.    And  is  he  trying  to  earn  it?" 

"Yes,  I  think  so.  He's  sticking  round  the  office  at 
any  rate." 

"Hum-m-m!  That's  because  it  costs  money  to  go 
anywhere  else.  Has  he  succeeded  in  raising  a  loan 
by  assigning  an  interest  in  his  inheritance?" 

"No,  not  yet.  I  blocked  him  at  all  the  banks  and 
with  my  old  friends,  and  I  do  not  think  he  can  borrow 
as  much  as  he  needs  from  any  of  his  friends.  They, 
like  him  of  course,  are  dependent  on  their  fathers' 
generosity." 

207 


208  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Fine  way  to  raise  a  boy !  Bully.  Well,  I'll  be  down 
to  your  office  in  about  an  hour  and  take  you  and  Joey 
to  luncheon  at  India  House.  You  haven't  forgotten 
what  I  wrote  you,  Joe?  You  know  your  part,  don't 
you?  .  .  .  Well,  see  that  you  play  your  hand  well  and 
we'll  save  that  boy  yet." 

Two  hours  later  the  Gurneys  were  lunching  with 
Cappy  Ricks  at  the  one  New  York  club  to  which  Gappy 
belonged — quaint  old  India  House  in  Hanover  Square, 
haunt  of  shipping  men  and  shippers,  perhaps  the  best 
and  least-known  club  in  New  York  City.  Joey  had  been 
unaffectedly  glad  to  see  his  godfather;  so  much  so, 
indeed,  that  Cappy  rightly  guessed  Joey  had  designs  on 
the  Ricks  pocketbook ;  for  after  all,  as  Cappy  admitted 
to  himself,  he  is  a  curmudgeon  of  a  godfather  indeed 
who  will  refuse  to  loan  his  godson  a  much  needed 
twenty-five  thousand  dollars  on  gilt-edged  security. 
In  expectation  of  an  application  for  a  loan  before  the 
day  should  be  done,  however,  Cappy  was  careful  not  to 
be  alone  with  Joey  for  an  instant,  for  something  told 
him  that  only  the  presence  of  Gurney,  Senior,  kept  Gur- 
ney  Junior  from  promptly  putting  his  fortune  to  the 
touch. 

"Well,  Joey,  you  young  cut-up,"  Cappy  began  as 
the  trio  settled  in  the  smoking  room  and  the  waiter 
brought  the  coffee  and  cigars,  "I  see  you're  getting  to 
be  quite  an  amateur  sailor.  Your  Dad  tells  me  you  won 
your  last  race  with  that  schooner  yacht  of  yours  in 
rather  pretty  fashion." 

"It  was  a  bully  race,  Mr.  Ricks.  I  wish  you  could 
have  been  aboard  with  me,"  Joev  declared  enthusiastic- 

ally. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  209 

"Hum-m-m !  Catch  me  on  a  yacht !"  Cappy's  tones 
indicative  of  profound  disgust. 

"Ricks,  you're  a  kill- joy,"  old  Gurney  struck  in. 
"All  you  think  of  is  making  money,  and  you've  made  so 
much  of  it  I  should  think  the  game  would  have  palled 
on  you  long  ago.  I  tell  Joey  to  go  it  while  he's  young 
— while  he  has  the  capacity  for  enjoyment." 

"Joe,  I  tell  you  now,  as  I've  told  you  before,  you're 
spoiling  this  boy.  When  he's  twenty-five  years  old  he 
comes  into  a  fortune  and  you're  not  even  preparing  him 
for  the  task  of  handling  that  money  wisely.  You 
bought  Joey  that  schooner  yacht,  didn't  you?" 

"I  bought  her  cheap,"  old  Joe  Gurney  protested 
lamely. 

"They  cost  a  fortune  to  maintain,  Joe.  Now  if 
Joey  wanted  some  salt-water  experience  you  should 
have  sent  him  to  sea  as  quartermaster  on  one  of  your 
own  Red  Funnel  liners  ;  presently  he  would  have  worked 
up  to  second  mate ;  then  first  mate,  and  finally  skipper. 
By  that  time  he  would  have  known  the  salt-water  end 
of  his  father's  business,  after  which  he  could  sit  in  at 
a  desk  and  learn  the  business  end.  Somehow,  Joe,  when 
I  see  a  shipping  man's  son  fooling  away  his  time  on  a 
pleasure  yacht  instead  of  learning  the  shipping  busi 
ness,  I  feel  as  if  I'd  just  taken  a  dose  of  ipecac." 

"Godfather  is  out  of  sorts,"  Joey  soliloquized  sagely, 
and  resolved  to  wait  .a  day  or  two  before  broaching  the 
subject  of  a  loan.  Cappy  Ricks  surveyed  the  young 
fellow  severely. 

"Joey,"  he  began,  "I've  no  doubt  you're  quite  a  sailor 
on  your  handsome  yacht,  in  your  yachting  uniform, 
with  all  the  real  head  work  to  be  done  by  your  sailing 
master " 


210  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  Joey  protested.  "I'm  not  that 
kind  of  a  yachtsman.  I'm  the  captain  tight  and  the 
midshipmite,  and  the  crew  take  orders  from  me,  because 
I  don't  employ  a  sailing  master." 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  when  you  go  on  a  cruise 
to  the  West  Indies  you  navigate  the  yacht  yourself — 
lay  out  your  own  courses  and  work  out  your  own  posi 
tion?" 

Joey  smiled  patronizingly. 

"Certainly,"  he  replied.     "That's  easy." 

"Sure.  Play  is  always  easy.  But  let  me  tell  you, 
young  man,  if  you  had  command  of  a  big  three-legged 
windjammer,  with  a  deckload  of  heavy  green  lumber 
fresh  from  the  saws,  and  ran  into  a  stiff  sou'-easter 
such  as  we  have  out  on  the  Pacific  coast,  you'd  know 
what  real  sailoring  is  like." 

"Joey  could  handle  her  like  that,"  old  Gurney  de 
clared  with  pride,  and  snapped  his  fingers. 

"Could  you,  Joey?"  Cappy  Ricks  demanded.  "I 
have  my  doubts." 

"Why,  I  think  so,  Mr.  Ricks.  I  might  be  a  little 
cautious  at  first " 

"Well,  I  don't  think  you  could,"  Cappy  interrupted. 

"Well,  I  do,"  old  Gurney  declared  with  some  warmth. 
"I've  been  out  with  Joey  on  his  yacht  and  I  know  what 
the  boy  can  do." 

"Bah !  You're  a  doddering  old  softy,  Joe.  Yachting 
is  one  thing  and  sailoring  is  another.  I  have  an  old 
lumber  hooker  on  Gray's  Harbor  now,  loading  for  a 
port  in  Peru,  and  I'd  certainly  love  to  see  Joey  with 
her  on  his  hands.  I'll  bet  fifty  thousand  dollars  he 
couldn't  sail  her  down  to  Sobre  Vista,  discharge  her 
and  sail  back  inside  of  six  months."  The  old  schemer 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  211 

chuckled.  "Lordy  me,"  he  continued,  "I'd  like  to 
see  Joey  trying  to  make  her  point  up  into  the  wind! 
She'd  break  his  heart." 

"Look  here,  Alden,"  Old  Joe  Gurney  commenced  to 
bristle.  "Are  you  serious  about  that  or  are  you 
just  making  conversation  bets?  Because  if  you're 
serious  I'm  just  shipping  man  enough  to  call  you  for 
the  sheer  sporting  joy  of  it." 

"By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  you're  on!" 
Cappy  Ricks  almost  yelled.  "Put  up  or  shut  up — that 
is,  provided  Joey  is  as  big  a  sport  as  his  father  and  will 
undertake  to  sail  my  schooner  Tyee  to  Sobre  Vista 
and  back." 

"Oh,  she's  a  schooner!"  There  was  relief  in  Joey's 
voice.  "Why,  I'll  sail  any  vessel  with  a  fore-and-aft 
rig.  I  thought  perhaps  you  were  trying  to  ring  in 
a  square-rigger  on  me,  and  I'm  not  familiar  with  them. 
But  a  schooner — pooh!  Pie  for  little  Joey!" 

"She's  got  three  legs,  and  with  a  deck-load  of  lumber 
she's  cranky  and  topheavy.  I'm  warning  you,  Joey. 
Remember  he  is  a  poor  ship  owner  who  doesn't  know 
his  own  ship." 

Joey  got  up  and  went  to  a  map  laid  out  on  a  table, 
with  a  piece  of  plate  glass  over  it,  to  compute  the 
sailing  distance  from  Gray's  Harbor  to  Sobre  Vista. 
He  could  not  find  Sobre  Vista  on  the  map. 

"Figure  the  distance  to  Mollendo  and  you'll  be  close 
enough  for  all  practical  purposes,"  Cappy  called  to 
him,  and  winkeJ  at  the  boy's  father.  "A  little  pep, 
here,  boy,"  he  whispered  to  Gurney,  "and  we'll  snare 
him  yet."  / 

Joey  came  back  from  his  study  of  the  map. 

"I'd  have  the  nor'west  trades  clear  to  the  Line,"  he 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

remarked  to  his  father.  "After  that  I'd  be  liable  to 
bang  round  for  a  couple  of  weeks  in  the  doldrums,  but 
in  spite  of  that — did  you  say  I  couldn't  do  it  in  six 
months,  Mr.  Ricks?" 

"That's  what  I  said,  Joey." 

"Take  the  bet,  dad,"  said  Joey  quietly,  "and  I'll  take 
half  of  it  off  your  hands.  I'll  give  you  my  note,  secured 
by  an  assignment  of  a  twenty-five-thousand-dollar  in 
terest  in  mother's  estate  to  secure  you  in  case  Mr.  Ricks 
should  win  and  call  you  for  his  winnings — but  he 
hasn't  a  chance  in  the  world." 

"Money  talks,"  Cappy  Ricks  warned  him  and  got  out 
his  check  book.  "Joe,  I'll  make  a  check  in  your  favor 
for  fifty  thousand  dollars  and  you  make  one  in  my 
favor  for  the  same  amount.  We  will  then  deposit  both 
checks  with  the  secretary  of  the  club,  who  will  act  as 
stakeholder " 

"  'Nuff  said,  Alden  P.  Ricks.  I  accept  the  dare. 
Sonny,  if  you're  a  worse  sailor-man  than  you  appear  to 
be,  you're  liable  to  cost  your  father  a  sizable  wad. 
However,  I  can't  resist  this  opportunity  to  put  a  nick 
in  the  Ricks  bank  roll."  Gurney  snickered.  "Alden," 
he  declared,  "you'll  bleed  for  a  month  of  Sundays. 
Really,  this  is  too  easy !  For  old  sake's  sake,  I'll 
give  you  a  chance  to  withdraw  before  it  is  too  late." 

"Let  the  tail  go  with  the  hide,  Joe.  I  don't  often  bet, 
but  when  I  do  I'm  no  piker.  Joey,  there's  just  one 
little  condition  I'm  going  to  exact,  however.  I'm  going 
to  send  one  of  my  own  skippers  along  with  you  on  the 
Tyee,  because  your  license  as  master  on?y  permits  you 
to  skipper  pleasure  boats  up  to  a  hui  .ired  tons  net 
register ;  so  in  order  to  comply  with  the  law  I'll  have 
to  have  a  sure-enough  skipper  aboard  the  Tyee.  But 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


tie  shall  have  orders  from  me  to  be  nothing  but  a  com- 
ipanion  to  you,  Joey.  Once  the  tugboat  casts  you  off, 
you  are  to  be  in  supreme  command  until  you  volun 
tarily  relinquish  your  authority,  when  of  course  he  will 
take  the  ship  off  your  hands.  Any  relinquishment  of 
authority,  however,  will  be  tantamount  to  failure,  and 
you  will,  of  course,  lose  your  twenty-five  thousand." 

"That's  a  reasonable  stipulation,  godfather.  I  ac 
cept  if  father  does — that  is,  provided  dad  lets  me  in  on 
half  the  bet." 

"Better  let  the  young  feller  in,  Joe,"  Gappy  sug 
gested.  "If  you  don't  he  might  throw  the  race." 

"Well,  I  don't  like  to  encourage  the  habit  of  betting, 
least  of  all  with  my  own  son,  but  in  view  of  the  fact 
that  this  is  a  friendly  little  bet  and — er — well,  you 
can  have  half,  Joey." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Joey.  "Mr.  Ricks,  when  do  I 
start?" 

Cappy  Ricks  glanced  at  his  watch. 

"The  sooner  the  better,"  he  replied.  "The  Tyee  is 
loading  now,  but  I'll  wire  them  you're  coming  and  to 
hold  her  for  you.  You  have  time  to  arrange  your 
affairs,  pack  a  trunk  and  catch  the  Lake  Shore  Limited 
for  Chicago  at  five  o'clock.  From  Chicago  you  take 
the " 

"Never  mind.  I  know  the  quickest  route.  Dad,  I'll 
need  some  money  before  I  go." 

"How  much,  son?" 

"Oh,  a  couple  of  thousand,  just  to  play  safe.  And 
I'll  have  to  leave  you  a  batch  of  bills  to  settle  for  me." 

"All  right,  son,  I'll  settle  them.  Here's  your  two 
thousand.  You  can  pay  me  back  out  of  your  winnings 
on  the  voyage.  And  never  mind  about  your  note  or 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

the  assignment  of  an  interest  in  your  inheritance.  If 
I  cannot  take  my  own  son's  word  of  honor  I  don't  de 
serve  a  son.  Just  take  care  of  yourself,  Joey,  because 
if  anything  should  happen  to  you  it  would  go  rather 
hard  with  your  old  man." 

He  wrote  Joey  a  check  for  two  thousand  dollars  and 
took  an  affectionate  farewell  of  his  son. 

"Now  listen  to  me,  my  dear  young  Hotspur,"  Gappy 
Ricks  commanded  him  as  he  shook  Joey's  hand  in  fare 
well.  "The  schooner's  name  is  Tyee  and  you'll  find  her 
at  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company's  mill  dock 
in  Aberdeen,  on  Gray's  Harbor,  Washington.  And 
don't  be  afraid  of  her.  She  was  built  to  weather  any 
thing.  The  skipper's  name  is  Mike  Murphy,  and  if 
you  can't  get  along  with  Mike  and  learn  to  love  him 
before  you're  in  the  ship  a  week,  there's  something 
wrong  with  you,  Joey.  Just  don't  start  anything  with 
Mike  though,  because  he  always  finishes  strong,  and 
whatever  he  does  is  always  right — with  me.  When 
you  get  out  there  he'll  show  you  the  orders  I  will  have 
telegraphed  him  and  you  have  my  word  of  honor,  boy, 
that  there'll  be  no  double-crossing  and  no  interference 
unless  you  request  it." 

"Right-o !"  cried  Joey,  and  was  off  to  earn  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars  of  the  easiest  money  he  had  ever 
heard  of. 

"Like  spearing  a  fish  in  a  bathtub,"  murmured 
Cappy  Ricks  dreamily,  and  tore  up  the  fifty-thousand- 
dollar  check  he  had  just  written.  "Joe,  if  your  boy  is 
such  easy  game  for  a  pair  of  old  duffers  like  us,  just 
think  what  soft  picking  he  must  have  been  for  that 
nimble-footed  lady  with  the  raven  hair,  the  pearly  teeth 
and  the  eyes  that  won't  behave!" 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"But  she's  coarse  and  brainless,  Alden.  I  can't 
imagine  a  boy  like  my  Joey  falling  in  love  with  a  woman 
like  that.  He  ought  to  know  better.  Just  remember 
how  he  was  raised." 

"Fooey !  Joey  isn't  in  love.  He  only  thinks  he  is, 
and  the  reason  he  thinks  it  is  because  she  has  told  him 
so  a  hundred  times.  Can't  you  just  see  her  looking 
up  at  Joey  with  her  startled-fawn  eyes  and  saying: 
'Oh,  you  do  love  me,  don't  you,  Joey?'  As  if  the  fact 
that  Joey  loved  her  constituted  the  eighth  wonder  of 
the  world!  And  she's  probably  told  Joey  she'll  die 
if  he  ever  ceases  to  love  her ;  and  he's  kind  and  obliging 
and  wouldn't  hurt  a  fly  if  he  could  avoid  it.  Why, 
Joe,  you  old  idiot,  you  mustn't  feel  that  Joey  has 
disgraced  himself.  Isn't  he  planning  to  marry  the 
woman?  Only  a  decent  man — a  born  idealist — could 
hold  that  designing  woman  in  such  reverence.  Blamed 
if  it  isn't  kind  of  sweet  of  the  boy,  although  I  would 
love  to  give  him  a  kick  that  would  jar  all  his  relations — 
including  his  father!" 

Old  Joe  Guraey  gazed  at  Cappy  in  admiration. 

"Alden,"  he  declared,  "you  have  a  singularly  acute 
knowledge  of  women." 

"I  employ  about  fifteen  of  'em  round  my  office;  I 
had  several  narrow  escapes  in  my  youth ;  I  have  had  a 
sweet  and  wonderful  wife — and  I  have  a  replica  of  her 
in  my  daughter.  And  I  do  know  young  men,  for  I 
have  been  young  myself ;  and  I  know  old  fools  like  you, 
Joe,  because  I've  never  had  a  son  to  make  an  old  fool 
of  myself  over." 

"Well,  now  that  you've  hooked  Joey  for  a  six  months' 
voyage,  what's  next  on  the  program?"  Gurney  asked 
after  a  brief  silence. 


216  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Gappy  smiled — a  prescient  little  smile. 

"Why,  I'm  going  to  pull  off  a  wedding,"  he  declared. 
"I'm  going  to  marry  Joey  to  the  sweetest,  nicest, 
healthiest,  prettiest,  brainiest  little  lady  of  twenty 
summers  that  ever  threatened  to  put  the  Ricks  organi 
zation  on  the  toboggan.  She's  my  private  secretary 
and  I've  got  to  get  rid  of  her  or  some  of  the  young 
fellows  in  our  office  will  be  killing  each  other." 

"Here,  here,  Alden,  my  boy,  go  slow!  I  ought  to  be 
consulted  in  this  matter.  Who  is  this  young  lady  and 
what  are  her  antecedents?" 

"Say,  who's  running  this  layout?"  Gappy  demanded. 
"Didn't  you  come  to  me  squealing  for  help?  Joe,  take 
a  back  seat  and  let  me  try  my  hand  without  any  advice 
from  you.  The  girl's  name  is  Doris  Kenyon  and  she's1; 
an  orphan.  Her  father  used  to  be  the  general  manager 
of  my  redwood  mill  on  Humboldt  Bay,  and  her  mother 
was  a  girlhood  friend  of  my  late  wife's;  so  naturally 
I've  established  a  sort  of  protectorate  over  her.  She 
has  to  work  for  a  living,  and  any  time  there's  a  poten 
tially  fine,  two-million-dollar  husband  like  Joey  lying 
round  loose  I  like  to  see  some  deserving  working  girl 
land  the  cuss.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  it's  almost  a  crime 
to  steer  her  against  Joey  in  his  present  state.  But," 
Gappy  added,  "I  have  a  notion  that  .before  Joe}'  gets 
rid  of  that  hula-hula  girl  he's  going  to  be  a  sadder, 
wiser  and  poorer  young  man  than  he  is  at  present." 

"Your  plan,  then,  is  to  give  Joey  six  months  away 
from  his  captor  in  order  that  he  may  forget  her?" 

"Exactly.  Absence  makes  the  heart  grow  colder  in 
cases  like  the  one  under  discussion,  and  the  sea  is  a 
great  place  for  a  fellow  to  do  some  quiet,  sane,  uninter 
rupted  thinking.  The  sea,  at  night  particularly,  is 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  217 

productive  of  much  introspection  and  speculation  on 
,he  various  aspects  of  life,  and  in  order  to  make  Joey 
'orget  this  vampire  in  a  hurry  all  that  is  necessary  is 
,o  have  a  real  woman  round  him  for  a  while.  The  first 
hing  he  knows  he'll  be  making  comparisons  and  the  con- 
,rast  will  appall  him." 

"You  don't  mean " 

"You  bet  I  do.  Joey's  future  wife  accompanies  him 
on  the  voyage,  and  my  bully  port  captain,  Mike  Mur 
phy,  and  his  amiable  sister  go  along  to  chaperone  the 
party  and  make  up  a  foursome  at  bridge.  I've  had  a 
naval  architect  at  work  on  the  old  cabin  of  the  Tyee, 
putting  in  some  extra  staterooms,  bathrooms,  and  so 
on,  and  in  order  to  make  a  space  for  the  passengers  I 
subsidized  the  two  squarehead  mates  into  berthing  with 
the  crew  in  the  fo'-castle.  Doris  always  did  want  to 
take  a  voyage  in  one  of  the  Blue  Star  windjammers, 
and  I  had  promised  to  send  her  at  the  first  convenient 
opportunity." 

"You  deep-dyed,  nefarious  old  villain !" 
"Old  Cupid  Ricks,  eh?  Well,  it's  lots  of  fun,  Joe, 
this  butting  in  on  love's  young  dream.  And  I'm  just 
so  constituted  I've  got  to  run  other  people's  affairs 
for  them  or  I  wouldn't  be  happy.  I  do  think,  however, 
that  this  house  party  on  the  old  Tyee  is  about  the 
slickest  deal  I  have  ever  put  over.  Joe,  they're  going 
to  be  right  comfortable.  I've  shipped  a  maid  for  the 
girls,  and  the  cook  this  time  is  several  degrees  superior 
to  the  average  maritime  specimen,  for  there's  nothing 
like  a  couple  of  days  of  bum  cooking  to  upset  tempers — 
and  I'm  taking  no  chances.  Also,  just  before  I  left 
I  gave  your  future  daughter-in-law  her  quarterly  divi 
dend — you  see,  when  her  father  died  I  h?d  to  sort  of 


218  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

look  after  the  tamily,  and  I  ran  a  bluff  that  Kenyon 
had  some  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company  stock — 
you  know,  Joe.  Proud  stuff!  I  had  to  hornswoggle 
them.  Well,  as  I  say,  I  gave  her  the  money,  and  my  girl 
Florry  went  shopping  with  her.  Sports  clothes  ?  Wow ! 
Wow!  White  skirts,  blue  jersey,  little  sailor  hat — 
man — oh,  man,  the  stage  is  set  to  the  last  detail!  I 
even  had  them  ship  a  piano.  Doris  plays  the  guitar 
and  has  a  pleasing  voice,  and  just  for  good  measure 
I  threw  in  a  crackajack  cabinet  phonograph  and  a 
hundred  records  with  enough  sentimental  drip  to  sink 
the  schooner." 

Joe  Gurney  stared  at  his  old  friend  rather  helplessly 
and  shook  his  head.  Such  finesse  was  beyond  his  com 
prehension. 

"You  see,  now,"  Cappy  continued,  "the  wisdom  of 
my  course?  I  insisted  that  you  cut  off  Joey's  allow 
ance  and  get  him  hungry  for  money.  You  did — and  he 
got  hungry.  He  would  have  been  posted  at  his  clubs  in 
thirty  days ;  it  is  probable  he  owed  a  few  bets  here  and 
there ;  his  tailor  may  have  needed  money.  Consequently, 
by  the  time  I  arrived  on  the  scene  he  was  ripe  for  any 
legitimate  enterprise  that  would  bring  him  in  the  need 
ful  funds ;  we  arranged  the  enterprise  and  he  promptly 
smothered  it.  Right  off,  Joe,  your  son  said  to  himself: 
'It  will  be  almost  a  year  before  I  come  into  my  inherit 
ance,  and  in  the  interim  I'm  going  to  get  married,  and 
a  married  man  who  lives  on  the  scale  my  wife  will  ex 
pect  me  to  assume  is  going  to  need  a  lot  more  money 
than  a  clerkship  in  his  father's  shipping  office  will  bring 
him.  Now,  there's  Tootsy-Wootsy  out  in  Reno  with  a 
five  months'  sentence  staring  her  in  the  eye  before  she'll 
be  free  to  marry  me,  and  I  can't  very  well  go  out  to 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  219 

Reno  to  visit  her  without  running  the  risk  of  incurring 
ny  father's  displeasure  or  the  tongue  of  gossip.  Con 
sequently,  I  have  five  months'  time  to  kill,  also,  and  how 
setter  can  I  kill  it  than  by  a  jolly  sea  voyage  in  a  bally 
3ld  lumber  hooker?  I  can  easily  win  twenty-five  thou 
sand  dollars  from  my  godfather,  and  that  twenty-five 
thousand  will  carry  us  along  until  dad  turns  over  my 
mother's  estate  to  me.  Fine  business !  I'll  go  to  it.' 
And,  Joe,  he's  done  gone !  Of  course  I'm  going  to 
win  his  twenty-five  thousand  bet  because  he  doesn't 
know  what  it  means  to  discharge  a  vessel  in  Sobre  Vista, 
and  Mike  Murphy  has  orders  from  me  to  hire  all  the 
available  stevedores  there  to  do  something  else  while 
Joey  is  trying  to  hire  them  to  discharge  the  Tyee. 
Don't  worry,  Joe !  The  country  is  safe  in  the  capable 
hands  of  Mike  Murphy." 

"I  see.  And  the  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  you  will 
win  from  Joey " 

"Will  reimburse  me  for  the  extraordinary  expense 
I've  been  to  in  saving  your  son.  If  Joey's  end  of  the 
bet  doesn't  cover  I'll  nick  you,  Joseph,  although  I  figure 
Joey's  end  of  it  will  pay  the  fiddler.  He  won't  miss  it 
out  of  his  two  millions.  Besides,  I've  noticed  that  the 
only  experience  worth  while  is  the  kind  you  pay  real 
money  for — and  Joey  has  to  buy  his  experience  the 
same  as  the  rest  of  us." 

Five  days  later  Cappy  Ricks  dropped  into  the  Red 
Funnel  Line  and  laid  a  telegram  on  old  Joe  Gurney's 
desk. 

"Read  that,"  he  commanded,  "and  see  if  you  can't 
work  up  a  couple  of  cheers." 

Gurney  read : 


220  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Aberdeen,  Wash.,  June  3,  1916 
"Alden  P.  Ricks 

"Waldorf-Astoria  Hotel,  New  York 

"Joey  arrived  bung  up  and  bilge  free.  Had  loaded  and 
hauled  into  stream,  waiting  for  him.  Came  out  in  launch, 
climbed  Jacob's  ladder  and  stood  on  rail,  sizing  up  ship. 
Saw  Doris  and  almost  fell  face  down  on  deck.  He  says 
Doris  is  a  dream,  she  says  Joey  is  a  dear.  Take  it  from 
me,  boss,  it  is  all  over  but  the  wedding  bells. 

"M.  CUPID  MURPHY." 

Old  Joe  Gurney  took  Cappy  Ricks'  hand  in  both 
of  his  and  shook  it  heartily. 

"My  worries  are  over,  Alden,"  he  declared.  "Yc 
have,  indeed,  been  my  friend  in  need." 

"My  troubles  and  Joey's  are  just  commencing,  hoi 
ever,"    Cappy    retorted    blithely.       "However — 4nev( 
trouble  trouble  until  trouble  troubles  you'  is  my  motl 
Where's  that  hundred-and-six-foot  schooner  yacht 
Joey's?" 

"She's  at  her  moorings  in  Greenpoint  Basin.    Why! 

"I  want  to  borrow  her  for  a  cruise  to  San  Francis* 
via  the  Panama  Canal.  Joey  and  his  bride  can  si 
her  back.  May  I  have  her,  to  do  what  I  please  wil 
Joe?" 

"Alden,  don't  ask  foolish  questions.     Take  her 
God  bless  you !    Joey  owns  her,  but  I  pay  the  bills ; 
her  skipper  takes  orders  from  me." 

Two  days  later  Joey's  schooner  Seafarer  was  stai 
ing  out  to  sea  past  Sandy  Hook,  but  Cappy  Ricks  w* 
not  aboard  her,  for  that  ingenious  schemer  had  boardt 
a  train  and  gone  back  to  San  Francisco  and  his  luml 
and  ships. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

Cappy  Ricks'  meditations  were  interrupted  by  a 
knock  at  the  door  of  his  private  office. 

"Come  in,"  he  piped,  and  his  son-in-law,  Captain 
Matt  Peasley,  stuck  his  head  in. 

"The  Tyee  is  sailing  in,  Cappy,"  he  announced.  "The 
Merchants'  Exchange  has  just  telephoned." 

"It's  an  infernal  lie,"  Cappy  shrilled  excitedly.  "It 
can't  be  the  Tyee.  If  it  is,  she's  two  months  ahead  of 
her  schedule,  and  by  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  I 
fixed  up  that  schedule  myself." 

Matt  Peasley  grinned. 

"Perhaps  Joey  didn't  like  your  schedule  and  re 
arranged  it  to  suit  himself,"  he  suggested. 

"Impossible!  That  infernal  young  scoundrel  put  it 
over  me?  Preposterous !  Why,  Mike  Murphy  was  on 
the  job.  Get  out,  Matt,  and  don't  come  in  here  again 
today  throwing  scares  into  the  old  man." 

Nevertheless,  Cappy's  confidence  in  human  nature 
was  badly  jarred  when  Captain  Michael  J.  Murphy 
was  announced  two  hours  later.  Indeed  Cappy  could 
scarcely  credit  his  sense  of  sight  when  the  redoubtable 
Michael  entered  the  room.  He  glared  at  the  worthy 
fellow  over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles  for  fully  a  minute 
while  Murphy  stood  fidgeting  just  inside  the  doorway. 

"Well,"  said  the  Blue  Star  despot  presently,  "all 
I've  got  to  say  to  you,  Mike  Murphy,  is  that  you're 
certainly  a  hell  of  a  seaman  to  stand  idly  by  and 

221 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


see  that   young  Joey   do   me   up  like  this.     Give  ai 
account  of  yourself!" 

"They're  engaged,"  Murphy  protested  valiantly. 

"That's  my  work,  Mike,  not  yours.  Don't  take 
credit  that  isn't  coming  to  you.  I  want  a  report  01 
your  end  of  this  deal.  How  does  it  happen  that  this 
boy  harpoons  me  for  twenty-five  thousand  dollars?  Have 
the  cargadores  at  Sobre  Vista  gone  on  the  watei 
wagon?  Did  Joey  out-bid  you  for  their  services! 
Have  they  added  a  lot  more  lighters  to  their  lightera^ 
fleet?  Has  the  surf  quit  rolling  in  on  the  beach i 
Have  the  inhabitants  of  Sobre  Vista  been  converted  t< 
the  Mohammedan  faith  and  declined  to  celebrate  saints 
days  and  holy  days?  Is  there  smallpox  in  the  towi 
that  the  quietus  has  been  put  on  fiestas  and  fandangoes 
and  has  Peru  been  annexed  by  Chile  and  the  celebratioi 
of  the  national  holidays  forbidden?" 

"No,  Mr.  Ricks.     It's  the  same  old  manana  burg 
The  trouble  was  that  Joey  is  a  better  sailorman  thai 
he  appeared  to  be.     He  cracked  on  all  the  way  dowi 
and    made    a    smashing   voyage,    and,    of    course, 
soon   as    we   got    there   he   went    ashore.      Two    othe 
schooners  were  there  ahead  of  us.     One  was  loading 
general  cargo  and  the  other  was  discharging  it,  an( 
when  Joey  heard  they  had  been  there  a  month  he  investi 
gated  conditions   and  saw  where  you  had  him.     Mr. 
Ricks,  he  came  back  as  mad  as  a  hatter.     Of  course 
saw  he  would  have  to  wait  until  the  other  schoonei 
were  out  of  the  way  before  he  could  begin  discharging 
because  they  had  first  call  on  the  lighters ;  so  in  view  oi 
the  situation  and  the  fact  that  Miss  Murphy  and  Doris 
were  a  bit  tired  of  the  ship  and  wanted  to  go  ashore  anc 
see  the  back  country,  I  organized  a  trip  for  them." 


GAPPY  RICKS  'RETIRES 

"You  left  Joey  aboard  the  Tyee,  of  course." 

"Yes,  sir.  And  there's  where  I  made  my  fatal  break. 
The  minute  my  back  was  turned  the  son  of  a  pirate 
got  busy.  It  appears  there  was  a  six-inch  waste  pipe 
leading  from  the  crew's  lavatory  out  under  the  stern 
of  the  ship,  and  this  pipe  had  rusted  away  and  broken 
off  at  the  flange  just  inside  the  skin  of  the  ship  some 
time  during  the  vessel's  previous  voyage.  Of  course 
it  happened  while  she  was  homeward  bound  in  ballast, 
and  was  standing  so  high  out  of  the  water  that  this 
vent  where  the  pipe  was  broken  was  above  the  water- 
line;  consequently  not  enough  of  a  leak  developed  to 
be  noticeable.  At  the  mill  dock,  however,  after  we  got 
her  under-deck  cargo  aboard,  the  vessel  had  settled 
until  this  vent  was  under  water,  and  immediately  she 
developed  a  mysterious  leak.  In  fact,  due  to  the  enor 
mous  pressure,  the  water  came  in  faster  than  the  pumps 
could  handle  it.  Fortunately,  however,  we  discovered 
where  the  leak  was,  though  it  was  then  too  late  to  mend 
it.  To  do  so  we  would  have  had  to  take  out  the  under- 
deck  cargo  again.  So  I  just  whittled  out  a  six-inch 
wooden  plug,  fastened  it  to  the  end  of  the  boat  hook, 
ran  it  down  the  narrow  space  through  which  the  broken 
pipe  led,  found  the  vent,  hammered  the  plug  home, 
stopped  the  leak,  pumped  out  the  well,  finished  taking 
on  cargo  and  sailed  for  Sobre  Vista." 

"A  small  leak  will  sink  a  great  ship,"  Gappy  Ricks 
murmured.  "I  think  I  anticipate  the  blow-off,  Mike; 
but  proceed." 

"Unfortunately  for  us  that  cargo  of  lumber  we 
had  was  for  the  Peruvian  government.  They  were 
going  to  use  it  in  the  construction  of  barracks  or  a 
new  customhouse  or  something — and  Joey  knew  this. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

And  he  knew  about  that  plug.  So  the  minute  my  back 
was  turned  he  pulled  out  the  plug  and  the  water  came 
in  and  trickled  all  through  the  cargo  and  the  ship 
commenced  to  settle.  But  Joey  didn't  care.  He  knew 
a  little  salt  water  couldn't  hurt  the  lumber.  When  the 
top  of  the  Tyee's  rail  was  flush  with  the  water  he 
plugged  the  hole  again,  got  his  crew  busy  with  the 
pumps,  and  by  judiciously  plugging  and  unplugging 
that  leak  he  kept  the  crew  pumping  all  day  and  all 
night  without  raising  the  vessel  an  inch,  and  the  people 
ashore  could  see  the  streams  of  water  cascading  over 
side  and  the  crew  pumping  like  mad.  And  presently 
Joey  gave  up,  went  ashore,  sought  the  captain  of  the 
port  and  put  up  a  hard  luck  story  about  a  leak  in  his 
ship — a  leak  he  couldn't  find  anywhere — a  leak  that 
was  getting  away  from  him,  because  his  men  were  too 
exhausted  to  do  any  more  pumping.  And  he  said  his 
ship  would  get  water-logged  and  settle  until  the  surf 
began  to  break  over  her.  And  presently  the  deck 
lashings  would  part  under  the  battering  of  the  surf  and 
the  deck  load  would  go  by  the  board.  Half  of  it  would 
drift  out  to  sea,  and  the  other  half  would  pound  on  the 
beach  and  get  filled  with  sand,  which  would  dull  the 
saws  and  planes  of  the  carpenters  when  they  came  to 
cut  it  up.  Also,  the  ship's  cabin  would  be  sure  to  go, 
and  unless  he  had  help  he  would  have  to  abandon  the 
vessel  and  she  would  lie  there,  submerged,  at  anchor,  a 
menace  to  the  navigation  of  the  port." 

"The  scoundrel!  The  in-fer-nal  young  scoundrel!" 
cried  Cappy  Ricks. 

"Well,  he  got  away  with  it,  sir.  Remember  our 
cargo  was  for  the  Peruvian  government  and  they'd  had 
the  devil's  own  time  getting  it;  consequently  they 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  225 

couldn't  afford  to  lose  any  part  of  it  and  have  their 
anchorage  ground  menaced  by  a  derelict.  So  the  cap 
tain  of  the  port  took  it  up  with  the  commandant  of  the 
local  garrison,  and  the  commandant,  as  Joey  expressed 
it,  heard  the  Macedonian  cry  and  got  busy.  He  com 
mandeered  all  the  lighters  the  other  schooners  were  us 
ing;  the  soldiers  rounded  up  the  cargadores  at  the 
point  of  the  bayonet,  and  they  started  discharging  the 
American  schooner  Tyee,  with  the  spiggoty  soldiers 
swelling  Joey's  crew  at  the  pumps  and  Joey  doing 
business  with  that  wooden  plug  according  to  the  re 
quirements.  Fortunately  there  weren't  any  surf  days 
that  week,  and  the  way  the  cargo  poured  out  of  the 
Tyee  was  a  shame  and  a  disgrace.  And  when  it  was 
all  out  Joey  plugged  the  leak  again,  pumped  out  the 
ship,  and  wired  me  at  Mollendo  to  hurry  back  with  the 
ladies  or  he'd  sail  without  me.  So  you  can  see  for 
yourself,  Mr.  Ricks,  it  was  a  hard  hand  to  beat.  And 
his  luck  held.  He  cracked  on  all  the  way  home  and, 
as  you  know,  sir,  the  Tyee  is  fast  in  a  breeze  of  wind, 
and  you  told  me  not  to  interfere  unless  he  asked  me 
to." 

Despite  his  disappointment  Cappy  Ricks  lay  back  in 
his  chair  and  laughed  until  he  wept. 

"Oh,  Mike,"  he  declared,  "it's  worth  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  to  know  a  boy  who  can  pull  one  like 
that.  What  do  you  think  of  him,  anyhow?" 

"He'll  do.  His  father  has  spoiled  him,  but  not  al 
together.  I  think  a  heap  of  him,  sir.  Remember  I've 
been  shipmates  with  him  a  trifle  over  four  months,  and 
that's  a  pretty  good  test." 

"Very  well,  Mike.  I  forgive  you,  my  boy.  I  hope 
Miss  Murphy  enjoyed  the  trip.  Tell  her " 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

The  door  opened  and  Joey  Gurney,  accompanied  by 
Miss  Doris  Kenyon  entered  unannounced. 

"Hello,  godfather,"  yelled  Joey  joyously.    He  jerked 
the  old  man  out  of  his  chair  and  hugged  him.     "I'm 
back  with  your  schooner,  sir.     She  was  easy  to  navi 
gate,  but  that  was  a  cold  deck  you  handed  me  in  Sobre 
-Vista » 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Joey,  glad  to  see  you,"  Gappy  in 
terrupted.  "Ah,  and  here's  my  little  secretary  again. 
Miss  Kenyon,  this  is  a  pleasure " 

"Mr.  Ricks,"  Joey  interrupted  him,  "the  lady's  name 
is  no  longer  Miss  Kenyon.  She  is  now  Mrs.  Joseph 
K.  Gurney,  Junior.  The  minute  we  got  ashore  at 
Meiggs'  wharf  and  could  shake  the  Murphys,  who 
stood  out  till  the  last  for  a  church  wedding,  we  char 
tered  a  taxicab,  went  up  to  the  City  Hall,  procured  a 
license,  rounded  up  a  preacher — and  got  married. 
What  do  you  know  about  that?" 

"You're  as  fast  as  a  second-story  worker,  Joey.  I 
shall  kiss  the  bride."  And  Gappy  did.  Then  he  sat 
down  and  stared  at  the  fruit  of  his  cunning  labors. 

"Well,  well,  well !"  cried  Joey.  "Kick  in,  godfather, 
kick  in.  You  owe  me  twenty-five  thousand  dollars,  and 
if  I'm  going  to  support  a  wife  I'll  need  it." 

Gappy  summoned  Mr.  Skinner,  who  felicitated  the 
happy  pair  and  departed  pursuant  to  Cappy's  order, 
to  make  out  a  check  for  Joey. 

"And  now,"  said  Gappy,  as  he  handed  the  groom  his 
winnings,  "you  get  out  of  here  with  your  bride,  Joey, 
and  I'll  telephone  Florry  and  we'll  organize  a  wedding 
supper.  And  to-morrow  morning,  Joe}7,  I'd  like  to  see 
you  at  ten  o'clock,  if  you  can  manage  to  be  here." 

Joey  promised,  and  hastened  away  with  his  bride. 


CHAPTER  XXXII 

True  to  his  word  he  presented  himself  in  Cappy's  Ikir 
promptly  at  ten  next  morning.  The  old  gentleman 
was  sitting  rigidly  erect  on  the  extreme  edge  of  his 
chair ;  in  his  hand  he  held  a  typewritten  statement  with 
a  column  of  figures  on  it,  and  he  eyed  Joey  very  ap- 
praisingly  over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles. 

"My  boy,"  he  said  solemnly,  "sit  down.  I'm  awfully 
glad  you  cabled  that  hula-hula  girl  of  yours  in  Reno 
that  the  stuff  was  all  off." 

Joey's  mouth  flew  open. 

"Why — why,  how  did  you  know?"  he  gasped. 

"I  know  everything,  Joey.  I'm  that  kind  of  an  old 
man." 

Joey  paled. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Ricks,"  he  pleaded,  "for  heaven's  sake 
don't  let  a  whisper  of  that  affair  reach  my  wife."  He 
wrung  his  hands.  "I  told  her  she  was  the  only  girl  I 
had  ever  loved — that  I'd  never  been  engaged  before — 
that  I — oh,  godfather,  if  she  ever  discovers  I've  lied 
to  her " 

"She'll  not  discover  it.  Compose  yourself,  Joey.  I've 
seen  to  all  that.  I  knew  you'd  give  Doris  the  same  old 
song  and  dance;  everybody's  doing  it,  you  know,  so 
I  took  pains  to  see  to  it  that  you'll  never  have  to  eat 
your  words." 

"I  must  have  been  crazy  to  engage  myself  to  that 
woman,"  Joey  wailed.  "I  don't  know  why  I  did  it — 

227 


228  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

I  don't  know  how  it  happened — Oh,  Mr.  Ricks,  please 
believe  me !" 

"I  do,  Joey,  I  do.  I  understand  perfectly,  because 
at  the  tender  age  of  twenty-four  I  proposed  marriage 
to  a  snake-charmer  lady  in  the  old  Eden  Musee.  She 
was  forty  years  old  if  she  was  a  day,  but  she  carried  her 
years  well  and  hid  the  wrinkles  with  putty,  or  some 
thing.  Barring  a  slight  hare-lip,  she  was  a  fairly  hand 
some  woman — in  the  dark."  He  reached  into  a  com 
partment  of  his  desk  and  drew  forth  a  package  of  letters 
tied  with  red  ribbon.  "You  can  have  these,  Joey,"  he 
announced;  "only  I  shouldn't  advise  keeping  them 
where  your  wife  may  find  them.  They  are  your  letters 
to  your  Honolulu  lady." 

Joey  let  out  a  bleat  of  pure  ecstacy  and  seized  them. 

"You  haven't  read  them,  sir,  have  you?"  he  queried, 
blushing  desperately. 

"Oh,  yes,  my  boy.  I  had  to,  you  know,  because 
I  was  buying  something  and  I  wanted  to  make  certain 
I  got  value  received.  Pretty  gooey  stuff,  Joey !  Read 
aloud,  they  sound  like  a  cow's  hoof  settling  into  a  wet 
meadow !" 

"I'm  so  glad  she  took  it  sensibly,"  Joey  announced, 
for  he  was  anxious  to  change  the  topic  of  conversation. 
"I  suppose  she  saw  it  was  the  only  way." 

"No,  she  didn't,  my  son.  Don't  flatter  yourself.  On 
your  way  out  West  to  join  the  Tyee  you  wrote  her 
every  day  on  the  train.  You  told  her  about  your  bet 
with  me,  and  who  I  was  and  all  about  me.  Lucky  for 
you  that  you  did,  and  doubly  lucky  for  you  that  you 
cabled  her  the  jilt  from  Sobre  Vista,  or  she  would  not 
have  come  to  me  with  her  troubles.  Joey,  that  must 
have  taken  courage  on  your  part.  It's  mighty  hard  for 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

a  gentleman  to  cable  a  lady  and  break  an  engagement. 
That's  the  lady's  privilege,  Joey." 

"I — I  was  desperate,  Mr.  Ricks.  I  had  to.  I  had 
to  have  her  out  of  the  way  by  the  time  I  got  back,  or 
Doris  might  have  found  it  out.  You  see,  I  wanted  to 
clear  the  atmosphere." 

"Well,  you  clouded  it  for  fair !  You  see,  Joey,  in  all 
those  letters  it  appears  that  you  never  once  mentioned 
the  words  marriage  or  engagement.  But  your  cable 
gram  was  an  admission  that  an  engagement  existed,  and 
the  lady  was  smart  enough  to  realize  that.  It  appears 
also  that  about  a  week  after  you  cleared  for  Sobre 
Vista  her  annoying  husband  was  killed  by  a  taxicab 
in  New  York,  so  that  saved  her  any  divorce  proceed 
ings;  and  when  your  cablegram  reached  her  she  was 
a  single  lady  who  had  been  heartlessly  jilted.  The 
first  thing  she  did  was  to  hire  a  lawyer,  and  the  first 
person  that  lawyer  called  on  was  Alden  P.  Ricks,  the 
old  family  friend.  It  appears  a  suit  for  breach  of 
promise  was  to  be  instituted  unless  a  fairly  satisfactory 
financial  settlement  could  be  arrived  at." 

"How  much  did  she  want?"  Joey  barely  whispered 
the  words. 

"Only  a  million." 

"How  much  did  you  settle  for?  I'll  pay  it  out  of  my 
inheritance,  Mr.  Ricks.  Don't  worry !  I  won't  see  you 
stuck,  for  you've  stood  by  me  through  thick  and  thin." 

"Why,  I  didn't  give  her  anything,  Joey.  I  just  had 
her  lawyer  bring  her  on  to  San  Francisco  for  a  confer 
ence.  Of  course  when  lunch  time  came  round  and  I 
hadn't  heard  any  proposition  I  felt  I  could  submit  to 
your  father,  I  invited  Miss  Fontaine  and  her  lawyer  to 
luncheon  with  me  in  the  Palace  Hotel  Grill,  and  while 


230  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

we  were  lunching,  who  should  come  up  and  greet  me 
but  my  old  friend,  the  Duke  of  Killiekrankie,  formerly 
Duncan  MacGregor,  first  mate  of  our  barkentine  Re 
triever.  Mac  is  an  excellent  fellow  and  for  some  time 
I  had  felt  he  merited  promotion.  So  I  made  him  a  duke. 

"Well,  the  duke  was  awfully  glad  to  see  me,  and  being 
a  gentleman  I  couldn't  do  less  than  introduce  him  to 
the  lady  and  her  lawyer.  He  only  stayed  at  our  table 
a  minute  and  then  rejoined  his  friends,  but  all  during 
the  meal  I  could  see  Betsy  Jane's  mind  wasn't  on  her 
breach-of-promise  suit.  She  asked  me  several  questions 
about  the  duke,  and  I  told  her  I  didn't  know  much  about 
him  except  that  he  was  sinfully  rich  and  a  globe-trotter, 
and  that  we'd  met  in  Paris.  Lies,  Joey,  but  pardonable, 
I  hope,  under  the  circumstances. 

"Well,  Joey,  it  seems  that  she  and  the  duke  were 
registered  at  the  same  hotel  and  I'll  be  shot  if  his  lord 
ship  didn't  meet  her — by  accident,  of  course — in  the 
lobby  that  afternoon.  He  lifted  his  hat  and  she  smiled 
and  they  had  a  chat.  The  next  day  she  cut  an  engage 
ment  with  her  lawyer  and  me  to  go  motoring  with  the 
duke  in  my  French  car,  and  Florry's  chauffeur  driving, 
for,  of  course,  the  duke  was  an  expensive  luxury  and  I 
was  trying  to  save  a  dollar  wherever  possible.  That 
night  the  duke  gave  a  dinner  party  in  honor  of  the  lady 
— and  he  gave  it  aboard  his  yacht,  the  Doris,  formerly 
the  Seafarer,  right  out  here  in  San  Francisco  har 
bor " 

Joey  went  up  and  put  his  arm  round  Cappy's  shoul 
ders. 

"Oh,  Cappy  Ricks,  Gappy  Ricks  !"  he  cried,  and  then 
his  voice  broke  and  his  eyes  filled  with  tears. 

"Yes,"  Cappy  continued,  "I  had  sort  o'  suspected  she 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

might  pull  that  breach-of-promise  stuff  on  you, 
Joey " 

"What  made  you  suspect  it?" 

"Why,  I  sort  of  suspected  you  were  going  to  marry 
Doris  Kenyon " 

"You  planned  to  get  us  together  on  the  same 
ship !" 

"Only  place  I  could  think  of  where  you  were  safe 
from  the  Honolulu  Tady  and  couldn't  run  away  from 
Doris,  Joey.  Well,  as  I  say,  I  had  sort  of  suspected 
she  might  sue  you  and  disgrace  you  and  break  the  heart 
of  that  little  girl  I'd  picked  out  for  you  long  before 
you  ever  met  her — so  I  started  to  get  there  first  and 
with  the  heaviest  guns.  I  borrowed  your  yacht  for  the 
duke  and  had  him  sail  her  round  himself,  so  he'd  have 
her  here  to  give  the  dinner  party  on.  Then  I  got  a 
Burke's  peerage  and  told  MacGregor  who  he  was  and 
had  him  study  up  on  his  family  history  and  get  ac 
quainted  with  his  sister,  Lady  Mary,  and  his  younger 
brother,  the  Honorable  Cecil  Something-or-other — in 
particular  he  was  not  to  forget  to  rave  about  the  grouse 
shooting  in  Scotland." 

Cappy  paused  and  puffed  his  cigar  meditatively  for 
half  a  minute. 

"Joey,"  he  continued,  "any  time  you  run  a  bluff, 
run  a  good  one.  If  you're  starring  a  globe-trotting 
duke,  have  his  ancestry  all  straightened  out  in  advance, 
because  he's  bound  to  break  into  the  newspapers  and 
the  motto  of  the  newspaper  editor  is  'Show  me.'  And 
the  yacht — just  one  of  the  props  of  the  comedy,  Joey; 
and  with  a  little  cockney  steward  in  livery  to  say 
'Your  ludship' ;  and  the  name  of  the  yacht  changed  in 
case  she'd  ever  heard  you  speak  about  the  Seafarer; 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

and  the  cabin  done  over  in  white  enamel  with  mahogany 
trim ;  and  a  new  set  of  -dishes  with  your  family  crest 
and  the  name  of  the  yacht  on  every  piece  in  case  you 
had  ever  had  her  aboard;  and  a  private  secretary — 
borrowed  him  from  my  general  manager,  Skinner,  by  the 
way — we  were  certainly  there  when  it  came  to  throwing 
the  ducal  front.  And  we  got  away  with  it,  for  Mac- 
Gregor's  accent  is  just  Scotchy  enough,  and  he  comes 
of  good  family  and  has  excellent  manners.  Yes,  I  must 
say  Mac  made  a  very  comfortable  duke.  Skinner's 
young  man  tells  me  it  would  bring  tears  of  joy  to  your 
eyes  to  see  him  kiss  the  lady's  hand. 

"Well,  Joey,  the  upshot  of  it  was  that  after  pay 
ing  violent  court  to  the  lady  for  two  weeks — Mac 
said  he  could  have  pulled  the  stunt  the  night  of  the 
dinner,  for  she  fell  for  the  title  right  way,  but  I  told 
him  to  make  haste  slowly — the  duke  received  a  cable 
gram  calling  him  home  from  his  furlough.  Oh,  yes, 
Joey,  I  had  him  in  the  army.  Any  young  unattached 
duke  that  doesn't  join  the  British  army  these  days 
doesn't  get  by  in  good  society,  and  I  had  my  duke  on 
a  six  months'  furlough  to  recover  from  his  wounds. 
Fortunately  a  bunch  of  cedar  shingles  had  fallen  on 
Mac's  foot  recently  and  he  was  dog  lame,  which 
strengthened  the  play. 

"Of  course  the  duke  was  up  in  the  air  right  away. 
In  a  passionate  scene  he  confessed  his  love  for  that 
damsel  of  yours,  Joey,  and  laid  his  dukedom  at  her  feet. 
Would  she  marry  him  P.  D.  Q.  and  help  him  sail  the 
yacht  home?  Would  she?  'Oh,  darling,  this  is  so 
sudden!'  she  cried,  and  almost  swooned  in  his  arms. 
From  a  cabaret  to  a  dukedom.  Some  jump!  Sail  the 
yacht  home  to  England  through  the  mine  fields  am 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  233 

submarines?  Perfectly  ripping,  by  Jove!  I  give  you 
my  word,  Joey,  she  tacked  on  one  of  those  New  York 
British  accents  for  the  duke's  special  benefit.  There 
was  a  lot  of  beam  to  her  a's,  Mac  told  me,  but  blamed 
little  molded  depth  to  her  mentality.  So  they  were 
married  in  haste,  and  after  the  duke  had  seen  his  bride 
in  the  elevator  bound  for  their  rooms  at  the  hotel,  he 
excused  himself  to  get  a  highball.  And  I  guess  he  got 
the  highball,  because  I  find  it  in  this  expense  account 
he  turned  in  to  me." 

"It  sounds  like  a  fairy  tale,"  Joey  murmured  in  an 
awed  voice.  "What  did  the  duke  do  next  ?" 

"Came  right  down  to  this  office  and  informed  me  he 
was  plumb  weary  of  the  life  of  a  bon  vivant  and  was 
anxious  to  get  to  sea  again.  So  I  made  him  master  of 
a  new  steamer  we  acquired  recently,  and  he's  gone  out 
to  Vladivostok  with  munitions  for  the  Russians." 

"But  didn't  you  give  him  some  money,  Mr.  Ricks  ?" 

"No.  Why  should  I?  Didn't  I  give  him  command 
of  a  steamer?  You  can  slip  him  a  fat  check  if  you  feel 
that  way  about  it,  but  I  never  coddle  my  skippers, 
Joey,  until  I'm  sure  they're  worth  while.  I  think,  how 
ever,  that  Mac  will  make  good.  He's  very  thorough." 

"Wha — what  became  of  Ernestine?" 

"Oh,  by  Godfrey,  that's  a  sad  story,  Joey.  It  seems 
she  waited  at  the  hotel  for  the  duke  to  come  back  and  he 
didn't  come,  so  the  following  morning  she  went  down 
to  the  water  front  looking  for  the  yacht — and  the 
yacht  was  gone.  During  the  night  I'd  had  it  towed 
over  to  Sausalito;  consequently  the  launchman  she 
hired  couldn't  find  it  down  in  Mission  Bay,  and  back 
to  the  beach  she  came.  After  a  couple  of  days  had 
passed,  however,  she  commenced  to  smell  a  rat,  so  she 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

came  down  to  my  office  and  asked  me  if  Fd  seen  any 
thing  of  the  duke. 

"  'Why,  yes,  I  have,'  I  told  her.  'The  old  duke  came 
in  here  yesterday  afternoon,  soused  to  the  guards,  and 
complaining  he'd  been  cruelly  deceived  into  marrying 
a  two-time  loser  with  a  couple  of  youngsters,  and  inas 
much  as  he  was  certain  the  family  wouldn't  receive  her 
he  was  leaving  the  United  States  immediately,  never  to 
return. 

"  'And  this  morning  the  justice  of  the  peace  who  per 
formed  the  ceremony  mailed  him  the  license,  which  has 
been  duly  recorded  in  the  office  of  the  Secretary  of 
State  in  accordance  with  law;  and  inasmuch  as  the 
license  was  sent  to  him  in  my  care  I  am  holding  it  in  our 
safe  until  he  calls  for  it.' 

"Well,  Joey,  she  looked  at  me  and  she  knew  the  stuff 
was  all  off.  She'd  married  the  duke;  I  had  the  license 
to  prove  it,  and  of  course  she  realized  her  breach  of 
promise  suit  and  claim  for  a  million  dollars'  worth  of 
heart  balm  would  be  laughed  out  of  court  if  she  had  the 
crust  to  present  it.  So  she  did  the  next  best  thing. 
She  abused  me  like  a  pickpocket  and  ended  up  by  get 
ting  hysterical  when  I  told  her  how  I'd  swindled  her. 
When  she  got  through  crying  I  lectured  her  on  the  error 
of  her  ways  and  suggested  that  inasmuch  as  she  had 
had  one  divorce  already,  another  wouldn't  be  much  of 
a  strain  on  her,  and  I'd  foot  the  bill  for  separating  her 
legally  from  John  Doe,  alias  the  duke,  on  a  charge  of 
desertion.  Then  I  offered  her  a  thousand  dollars  and 
a  ticket  back  to  New  York  for  the  surrender  of  all 
your  letters  to  her  and  that  infernal  cablegram  and  a 
release  of  all  claims  against  you.  I  guess  she  was  broke 
for  she  grabbed  it  in  a  hurry,  Joey.  The  atmosphere  is 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  235 

now  clear,  my  son,  and  nothing  further  remains  to  be 
done  in  the  premises,  save  settle  the  bill  of  expense. 
Fortunately  the  Tyee  made  money  on  that  fast  voyage 
under  your  command,  but  the  cost  of  bringing  the  yacht 
round  from  New  York,  doing  over  the  cabin,  buying  the 
new  dishes  with  the  crest,  and  settling  with  the  lady 
should  rightfully  be  borne  by  you.  As  I  say,  the  duke 
was  expensive,  for  the  rascal  certainly  rolled  'em  high. 
Skinner  has  made  me  up  a  statement  of  the  total  cost, 
with  interest  at  six  per  cent  to  date,  and  it  appears, 
Joey,  that  you  owe  your  godfather  $12,143.18.  On  the 
day  you  come  into  your  inheritance,  add  six  per  cent 
to  that  sum  and  send  me  a  check." 

"But  the  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  I  won  from 

you "  Joey  began,  but  Gappy  held  up  a  rigid  finger, 

enjoining  silence. 

"I  am  going  to  stick  your  dub  of  a  father  for  that, 
as  a  penance  for  his  sins  of  omission,  Joey ;  for  by  the 
Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  if  ever  a  boy  won  a  bet  and 
was  entitled  to  it,  you're  that  young  man.  In-fer-nal 
young  scoundrel !  Keep  it  and  split  fifty-fifty  with  your 
wife.  You  won  a  straight  bet  from  a  crooked  gambler, 
and  if  I  haven't  had  a  million  dollars'  worth  of  fun  out 
of  this  transaction  I  hope  I  may  marry  a  hula-hula 
woman — and  I've  passed  my  three  score  and  ten  and 
ought  to  know  better!" 

"But  about  this  man  MacGregor " 

"Don't  worry  about  him.  The  Scotch  are  a  hardy 
race  and  Mac  is  a  sailor.  Joey,  I  know  sailors.  The 
scoundrels  have  a  wife  in  every  port !" 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

DURING  the  period  when  Joey  Gurney  was  busy 
doing  all  that  Cappy  Ricks  desired  him  to  do 
and  some  things  that  were  slightly  off  Cappy's  pro 
gram,  the  president  emeritus  of  the  Blue  Star  Naviga 
tion  Company  and  allied  interests  was  discovering  that 
it  is  one  thing  to  declare  for  the  simple  life  and  quite 
another  to  live  it.  The  Great  War  challenged  so 
much  of  the  Ricks  interest  that  he  could  not  bear  to 
live  far  from  morning  and  evening  editions — and  he 
wanted  them  red  hot  off  the  presses.  Things  were  doing 
in  the  shipping  world.  The  most  inconceivable  trades 
were  being  consummated  daily,  freights  were  soaring, 
lumber  prices  had  reached  an  unprecedentedly  high  level 
and  promised  to  go  higher;  there  was  something  doing 
every  minute  and  not  enough  minutes  in  a  working  day 
to  accommodate  half  of  these  somethings.  What  more 
natural,  therefore,  than  that  Cappy  presently  should 
find  himself  caught  in  the  maelstrom,  even  though  he 
told  himself  daily  that,  come  what  might  he  would  keep 
out  of  it. 

The  first  indefinite  evidence  that  he  was  about  to  be 
engulfed  came  in  the  form  of  a  newspaper  story,  ex 
the  steamer  Timaru,  from  Sydney,  via  Tahiti.  There  it 
was,  as  big  as  a  church — a  paragraph  of  it,  tucked 
away  in  a  column-and-a-half  story  of  the  bombardment 
of  Papeete  by  the  German  Pacific  fleet  early  in  Septem 
ber  of  1914: 

236 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  237 

"An  incident  of  the  bombardment  was  the  sinking  of  the 
German  freight  steamer  Valkyrie  by  shells  from  the  Ger 
man  fleet.  The  vessel  had  been  captured  by  the  French 
gunboat  Zeile  some  weeks  previous  and  was  at  anchor  in 
the  harbor,  under  the  guns  of  the  Zeile,  when  the  German 
squadron  appeared  off  the  entrance.  The  gunboat  imme 
diately  was  made  the  target  for  the  German  guns,  and 
sunk.  During  the  attack,  however,  a  wild  shell  missed  the 
Zeile  and  struck  the  Valkyrie,  tearing  a  great  hole  in  her 
hull  and  causing  her  to  sink  in  ten  fathoms  at  her  anchor 
age." 

Ten  fathoms!  Sixty  feet!  Why,  at  that  depth 
Cappy  should  have  known  that  her  masts  and  funnel 
would  be  above  water ;  that  in  all  probability  she  car 
ried  war- risk  insurance;  that  she  was  so  far  from 
anywhere  the  underwriters  would  have  abandoned  her, 
even  had  she  not  been  a  prize  of  war,  since  there  are 
no  appliances  in  Papeete  for  salving  a  vessel  of  her 
size;  that  she  could  be  raised  if  one  cared  to  spend 
a  little  money  on  doing  it;  that  one  projectile  prob 
ably  had  not  ruined  her  beyond  repair;  that  she  was 
a  menace  to  navigation  in  Papeete  Harbor  and  hence 
would  have  to  be  gotten  out  of  the  way,  either  by  dyn 
amite  or  auction;  that — well,  any  number  of  thats 
should  have  occurred  to  Cappy  Ricks  to  suggest  the 
advisability  of  keeping  track  of  the  wreck  of  the  Val 
kyrie.  However,  for  some  mysterious  reasons — his  re 
sentment  against  the  German  cause,  probably — the 
golden  prospect  never  appealed  to  him,  for  when  he 
had  finished  reading  the  article  he  merely  said: 

"Well,  what  do  you  know  about  that?  Skinner,  it's 
a  mighty  lucky  thing  for  that  German  admiral  that 
I'm  not  the  Kaiser,  for  I'd  certainly  make  him  hard 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

to  catch.  The  idea  of  sinking  that  fine  steamer — and 
a  German  steamer  at  that !  Here  was  the  little  old 
French  gunboat,  about  as  invulnerable  as  a  red-cedar 
shingle;  and  instead  of  moving  into  proper  position 
and  raking  her  with  their  light  guns — instead  of  calling 
on  her  to  surrender — these  Germans  had  to  go  to  work 
in  a  hurry  and  inaugurate  a  campaign  of  frightfulness. 
The  minute  they  were  off  the  harbor — Zowie !  Blooey ! 
Bam !  It  was  all  over  but  the  cheering,  and  they'd 
chucked  an  eight-inch  projectile  through  a  ship  that 
was  worth  four  of  the  gunboat. 

"Skinner,  that's  what  I  call  spilling  the  beans.  Why 
they  didn't  take  their  time,  recapture  that  freighter 
and  give  her  skipper  a  chance  to  hustle  across  to  San 
Francisco  or  Honolulu  and  intern,  is  a  mystery  to  me. 
The  idea!  Why,  for  that  German  fleet  to  waste  am 
munition  on  that  Jim-Crow  town  and  a  hand-me-down 
gunboat  was  equivalent  to  John  L.  Sullivan  whittling 
out  a  handle  on  a  piece  of  two-by-four  common  fir  in 
order  to  attack  a  cockroach!" 

Cappy  was  so  incensed  that  he  growled  about  the 
Germans  for  an  hour.  Then  he  forgot  the  Valkyrie, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  press  jogged  his 
memory  again  when  the  German  fleet,  deciding  that 
prudence  was  the  better  part  of  valor,  fled  from  the 
Pacific  to  escape  the  Japanese,  only  to  be  destroyed 
in  the  South  Atlantic  by  the  British  fleet.  A  resume 
of  the  operations  of  the  German  squadron  in  the  Pa 
cific  brought  forth  mention  of  the  destruction  of  the 
Zeile  and  the  Valkyrie.  However,  Cappy's  mind  was 
not  in  Tahiti  now,  but  off  the  Falkland  Islands,  for 
he  was  very  much  pro-Ally  and  devoted  more  thought 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  239 

to  military  and  naval  strategy  than  he  did  to  the 
lumber  and  shipping  business. 

However,  the  climax  of  Cappy's  indignation  over 
the  disaster  to  the  Valkyrie  was  not  attained  until  a 
few  months  later  when,  in  conversation  on  the  floor 
of  the  Merchants'  Exchange  with  the  skipper  of  the 
schooner  Tarus,  who  happened  to  have  been  in  Papeete 
at  the  bombardment,  he  learned  he  had  done  the  Ger 
man  admiral  a  grave  injustice.  He  came  back  to  his 
office,  boiling,  declaring  the  French  were  a  crazy  nation, 
and  that,  after  all,  he  could  recall  meeting  one  or  two 
fine  Germans  during  the  course  of  a  fairly  busy  career. 
He  summoned  Mr.  Skinner  and  Matt  Peasley  to  hear 
the  sordid  tale. 

"Remember  that  steamer  Valkyrie  the  Germans  were 
supposed  to  have  sunk  by  accident  in  the  harbor  of 
Papeete  during  the  bombardment  in  September  of 
1914?"  he  queried. 

"I  believe  I  read  something  about  it  in  the  papers 
at  the  time,"  Mr.  Skinner  replied. 

"What  about  her?"  Matt  Peasley  demanded. 

"Why,  the  Germans  didn't  sink  her  at  all,  Matt! 
The  Frenchmen  did  it,"  Gappy  shrilled.  "The  crazy, 
frog-eating  jumping- jacks  of  Frenchmen!  The  tramp 
wasn't  flying  the  German  flag — naturally  the  French 
men  had  hauled  it  down ;  so  the  Germans  didn't  investi 
gate  her.  Besides,  they  were  in  a  hurry — you'll  re 
member  the  Japs  were  on  their  trail  at  the  time ;  so 
they  just  devoted  forty  minutes  to  shooting  up  the 
town,  and  beat  it.  I  don't  suppose  they  ever  knew 
they  hit  the  Valkyrie;  perhaps  they  figured  that,  having 
sunk  the  gunboat,  the  Valkyrie  could  up  hook  and  away 


240  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

at  her  leisure,  since  there  was  nothing  left  to  prevent 
her. 

"Huh!  Makes  me  sick  to  talk  about  it;  but  the 
skipper  of  the  Tarus  was  there  at  the  time  and  he 
tells  me  that,  though  the  Valkyrie  was  pretty  well  down 
by  the  stern,  her  bulkheads  were  holding  and  she 
wouldn't  have  sunk  if  those  blamed  Frenchmen,  fearful 
that  the  German  fleet  was  coming  back  after  her,  hadn't 
gone  aboard  and  opened  her  sea  cocks !  Yes,  sir. 
Rather  than  risk  having  her  recaptured,  they  opened 
her  sea  cocks  and  sunk  her !  And,  at  that,  they  didn't 
have  sense*  enough  to  run  her  out  to  deep  water.  No ! 
They  had  to  do  the  trick  as  she  lay  at  anchor;  and 
there  she  lies  still,  a  menace  to  navigation  and  a 
perennial  reminder  to  those  Papeete  Frenchmen  that 
he  who  acts  in  haste  will  repent  at  leisure." 

To  this  outburst  Mr.  Skinner  made  some  perfunctory 
remark,  attributing  the  situation  to  a  lack  of  efficiency, 
while  Matt  Peasley  went  back  to  his  office  and  grieved 
as  he  reflected  on  the  corrosive  action  of  salt  water 
on  those  fine,  seven-year-old  engines. 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

Time  passed.  Mr.  Skinner  developed  a  pallor  and 
irritability  that  bespoke  all  too  truly  an  attack  of 
nerves,  from  overwork,  and  sore  against  his  will  was 
hustled  off  to  Honolulu  for  a  rest  while  Cappy 
Ricks  had  the  audacity  to  take  charge  of  the  lumber 
business.  Whereupon  Mr.  J.  Augustus  Redell,  of  the 
West  Coast  Trading  Company,  discovered  the  unpro 
tected  condition  of  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Com 
pany  and  promptly,  in  sheer  wanton  deviltry,  pro 
ceeded  to  sew  Cappy  Ricks  up  on  an  order  for  a  million 
grape  stakes. 

A  word  here  regarding  the  said  J.  Augustus  Redell. 
He  was  a  blithe,  joyous  creature,  still  in  the  sunny 
thirties,  and  what  he  didn't  know  about  the  lumber 
business — particularly  the  marketing  of  lumber  prod 
ucts — could  be  tucked  into  anybody's  eyes  without  im 
pairing  their  eyesight.  Mr.  Redell  had  fought  his 
way  up  from  office  boy  with  the  Black  Butte  Lumber 
Company  to  lumber  broker  with  offices  of  his  own.  He 
had  owned  a  retail  yard  in  which  business  he  had  gone 
"bust"  for  more  money  than  the  world  appeared  to 
contain.  But  he  had  fought  his  way  back  and  paid 
a  hundred  cents  on  the  dollar,  including  some  hundred 
and  forty  thousand  dollars  he  had  owed  the  Ricks  mills 
at  the  time  of  his  collapse.  Because  he  was  young  and 
fine  and  good-natured  and  brave  and  brilliant,  Cappy 
had  always  admired  J.  Augustus  Redell,  but  after  the 

241 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

latter  had*  so  splendidly  re-established  his  credit  and 
formed  a  partnership  with  a  Peruvian  gentleman,  one 
Senor  Luiz  Almeida,  known  locally  as  Live  Wire  Luiz, 
Cappy  found  that  he  had  for  the  genial  J.  Augustus 
an  admiration  that  amounted  to  affection.  The  West 
Coast  Trading  Company,  under  which  title  Live  Wire 
Luiz  and  J.  Augustus  Redell  did  a  lumber  brokerage 
business  with  Mexico,  Central  American  and  South 
American  countries  principally,  had  Cappy  Ricks*  en 
tire  confidence,  although  he  would  have  died  rather 
than  admit  this.  Live  Wire  Luiz  he  ignored  and  always 
dismissed  as  a  factor  in  the  affairs  of  that  company, 
but  whenever  Redell  had  a  deal  on  that  was  too  heavy 
for  his  financial  sinews,  Cappy  could  always  be  de 
pended  upon  to  lend  a  helping  hand.  On  his  part, 
Redell  revered  Cappy  Ricks  as  only  an  idealistic  and 
naturally  lovable  rascal  of  a  boy  can  revere  an  ideal 
istic  and  lovable  old  man.  To  J.  Augustus  Redell  little, 
old,  naive,  whimsical,  gentle,  terrible,  brilliant,  cunning, 
generous,  altruistic,  prudent,  youthful  old  Cappy 
Ricks  was  a  joy  forever.  With  the  impishness  of  his 
tender  years,  Mr.  Redell  could  conceive  of  no  greater 
joy  than  picking  on  Cappy  Ricks  just  to  see  the  latter 
fight  back. 

Quite  early  in  thfcir  friendship,  the  astute  Redell 
discovered  a  rift  in  Cappy's  armor — two  rifts,  in  fact. 
The  first  was  that  Cappy  feared  and  loathed  old  age 
and  fiercely  resented  even  the  most  shadowy  intima 
tion  that  with  age  he  was,  to  employ  a  sporting  phrase, 
"losing  his  punch."  The  second  weakness  that  lay 
exposed  to  Redell  was  Cappy's  passion  for  wringing 
a  profit,  by  ingenious  means,  from  apparently  barren 
soil  where  no  profit  had  ever  hitherto  burgeoned.  At 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  243 

heart  Cappy  was  a  speculator;  only  the  fact  that  he 
was  a  prudent  and  careful  speculator  had  conduced 
to  enrich  him  rather  than  impoverish  him. 

Now,  Cappy  was  fully  convinced,  from  optical  evi 
dence,  that  J.  Augustus  Redell  was  a  gambler.  He 
admired  RedelPs  genius  for  business,  the  soundness 
of  his  decisions,  the  alertness  of  his  mind  and  the  bril 
liance  of  his  financial  coups,  but — he  deprecated  the 
younger  man's  daring.  Cappy  called  it  recklessness. 
By  degrees  the  old  gentleman  had  come  to  assume  a 
proprietary  interest  in  Gus  Redell  and  the  latter's 
affairs,  for  the  younger  man  frequently  sought  counsel 
from  Cappy  and  not  infrequently,  a  loan!  Cappy 
knew  his  young  friend  to  be  the  soul  of  manly  honor, 
but — he  was  young !  Ah,  yes !  He  was  young.  Ergo, 
he  was  foolish.  True,  his  foolishness  had  not  as  yet 
been  discovered,  but  Cappy  was  certain  it  would  come 
to  the  surface  sooner  or  later.  The  boy  was  reckless — 
a  gambler.  Cappy  abhorred  gambling.  He  never 
gambled.  Occasionally  he  speculated !  What  more  nat 
ural,  therefore,  than  that  little  Cappy  should  presently 
arrogate  to  himself  the  privilege  of  stabbing  young  J. 
Augustus  to  the  vitals  from  time  to  time,  just  to  im 
press  upon  the  boy  the  knowledge  that  this  is  a  hard, 
cold,  cruel  world  with  a  great  many  bad  men  in  it ! 

Nothing  could  possibly  have  delighted  Redell  more. 
Whenever  Cappy  stabbed  him,  forthwith  he  set  about 
to  stab  Cappy  in  return,  and  thus  had  developed  a 
joyous  business  feud.  These  best  of  friends  spent  an 
hour  and  a  half  daily,  at  luncheon,  "picking"  on  each 
other,  telling  tales  on  each  other,  eternally  "joshing" 
for  the  edification  of  a  coterie  of  their  lumber  and 
shipping  friends  who  always  lunched  in  a  private  dining 


244  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

room  at  the  Commercial  Club   and  who  were  known 
within  that  organization  as  the  Bilgewater  Club. 

Early  in  1915  Redell  had  seen  an  opportunity  for 
inducing  Cappy  Ricks  to  speculate  in  grape  stakes — to 
his  financial  hurt  and  humiliation.     There  was  to  be 
an  election  that  fall — a  special  election  to  see  whether 
California   should  "go  dry"   or  "stay  wet,"   and  for 
some  reason  not  quite  apparent  to  Mr.  Redell,  a  great 
many  people  believed  the  state  would  "go  dry."  Among 
the  people  who  so  believed,  Redell  discovered,  were  the 
woodsmen  who,  during  the  winter  of  1914,  would,  under 
normal  conditions,  have  split  from  redwood  trees  suffi 
cient  grape  stakes  to  support  such  new  vineyards  as 
would  come  into  bearing  in  the  fall  of  1915.     Fearing 
that  there  would  be  no  market  for  their  grape  stakes 
when  the  making  of  wine  should  be  prohibited  by  law, 
these  woodsmen  had  made  no  effort  to  supply  the  de 
mand  ;  wherefore  the  Machiavellian  J.  Augustus  Redell, 
taking  advantage  of  Mr.  Skinner's  absence  from  the  of 
fice  of  the  Ricks  mills,  cleverly  managed  to  inculcate  in 
Cappy  Ricks  the  idea  that  it  would  be  a  splendid  an( 
profitable  venture  if  he,  the  said  Cappy,  should  wi 
into  the  grape  stake  market  and  corner  it.     The  idei 
appealed  to  the  speculative  part  of  the  old  gentleman's 
nature  and  he  had  gone  to  work  in  a  hurry,  only 
discover,  after  he  had  accepted  orders  from  the  W< 
Coast  Trading  Company  for  a  great  many  carloads  oi 
grape  stakes  for  future  delivery,  that,  when  the  d 
of  reckoning  should  come,  he  would  not  be  enabled 
pick  up  enough  grape  stakes  to  fill  his  orders,  for  the 
very  sufficient  reason  that  nobody  had  manufacture 
grape  stakes  for  that  year's  market,  and  they  were  nol 
available  at  any  price! 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  245 

It  had  been  a  cruel  blow  and  Cappy's  weakness  had 
been  exposed  without  mercy  to  the  members  of  the 
Bilgewater  Club  by  Mr.  Redell,  who  thereafter  kept 
both  eyes  wide  open,  knowing  that  sooner  or  later 
Cappy  would  retaliate. 

Retaliation  was,  of  course,  inevitable.  Cappy  real 
ized  this.  For  the  first  time  in  his  career  as  a  lumber 
and  shipping  king  the  sly  old  dog  realized  he  had 
been  out-thought,  out-played,  out-gamed  and  man 
handled  by  a  mere  pup.  And,  though  he  had  taken  his 
beating  like  the  rare  old  sport  that  he  was,  neverthe 
less  the  leaves  of  memory  had  a  horrible  habit  of  mak 
ing  a  most  melancholy  rustling;  and  for  two  weeks, 
following  his  ignominious  rout  at  the  hands  of  J. 
Augustus  Redell,  Cappy's  days  and  nights  were  en 
tirely  devoted  to  scheming  ways  and  means  of 
vengeance.  Curiously  enough,  it  was  the  West  Coast 
Trading  Company  that  accorded  him  the  opportunity 
he  craved. 

Having  massacred  Cappy  in  the  grape-stake  deal 
and  established  an  unlimited  credit  thereby,  the  West 
Coast  Lumber  Company,  per  Senor  Felipe  Luiz  Al 
meida,  alias  Live  Wire  Luiz,  decided  to  purchase  a 
little  jag  of  spruce  from  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging 
Company.  Cappy  Ricks  looked  at  the  proffered 
order,  saw  that  it  called  for  number  one  clear  spruce, 
and  promptly  accepted  it  at  a  dollar  under  the  market. 
He  was  to  bring  the  spruce  in  to  San  Francisco  on  one 
of  his  own  schooners,  lay  her  alongside  the  City  of 
Panama  and  discharge  it  into  her,  for  delivery  at 
Salina  Cruz,  Mexico. 

Cappy  knew,  of  course,  that  Live  Wire  Luiz  handled 
exclusively  the  West  Coast  Trading  Company's  Mexi- 


246  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

can,  Central  and  South  American  business.  He  knew, 
also,  that  there  were  many  points  about  the  lumber 
business  that  the  explosive  little  Peruvian  had  still  to 
learn;  so  he  decided  to  stab  the  West  Coast  Trading 
Company,  through  the  innocent  and  trusting  Senor 
Almeida,  with  a  weapon  he  would  not  have  dreamed  of 
employing  had  J.  Augustus  Redell  placed  the  order. 
Live  Wire  Luiz  knew  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging 
Company  always  sold  its  output  on  mill  tally  and  in 
spection;  that  Cappy  Ricks'  grading  rules  were  much 
fairer  to  his  customers  than  those  of  his  competitors; 
that  when  he  contracted  to  deliver  number  one  clear 
spruce  he  would  deliver  exactly  that  and  challenge 
anybody  to  pick  a  number  two  board  out  of  the  lot. 
But  what  Live  Wire  Luiz  did  not  know  was  that  there 
are  two  kinds  of  number  one  spruce  on  the  Pacific 
Coast.  One  grows  in  California  and  the  other  in 
Oregon  and  Washington — and  Cappy  Ricks  had  both 
kinds  for  sale. 

"Aha  I"  Cappy  murmured  as  he  glanced  over  Liv( 
Wire  Luiz's  order  after  the  latter  had  gone.    "Numbei 
one  clear  spruce,  eh?     All  right,  sir!     Away  down  in 
my  wicked  heart  I  know  you  want  some  nice  numbei 
one  stock  from  our  Washington  mill,  at  Port  Hadlock 
but  unfortunately  you  have  failed  to  stipulate  it— s< 
we'll  slip  you  a  little  of  the  California  product  and 
teach  you  something  you  ought  to  know." 

Whereupon  Cappy  sent  the  order  to  his  mill  on 
Humboldt  Bay,  California.  Though  this  plant  manu 
factured  redwood  lumber  almost  exclusively,  whenever 
the  woods  boss  came  across  a  nice  spruce  or  bull-pine 
tree  among  the  redwood  he  was  wont  to  send  it  down 
to  the  mill,  where  it  was  sawed  and  set  aside  for  trust- 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  247 

ing  individuals  like  Live  Wire  Luiz.  When  seasoned 
this  spruce  was  very  good  stock.  Unfortunately,  how 
ever,  experts  differ  in  their  diagnosis  of  California 
spruce.  There  are  those  who  will  tell  you  it  is  not 
••spruce,  but  a  bastard  fir;  while  others  will  tell  you  it 
ris  not  fir,  but  a  bastard  spruce.  Cappy  Ricks  had  no 
definite  ideas  on  the  subject,  for  he  didn't  own  enough 
?f  that  kind  of  stumpage  to  grieve  him.  All  he  knew 
?r  cared  was  that  when  such  outlawed  stock  was  billed 
as  spruce  no  judge  or  jury  in  the  land  could  say  it  was 
fir;  also,  that  in  its  green  state  it  possessed  an 
abominable  odor  ! 

The  lumber  was  delivered  to  the  City  of  Panama  in 
lue  course  and,  as  Cappy  had  suspected,  Live  Wire 
Luiz  failed  to  come  down  to  her  dock  and  take  a  smell. 
This  was  a  privilege  left  intact  for  the  consignee  at 
Salina  Cruz  ;  and  he,  according  to  Mexican  custom, 
vhich  only  demands  a  ghost  of  an  excuse  to  seek  a  re 
bate,  promptly  wired  a  protest  and  declared  himself 
swindled  to  the  extent  of  five  dollars  a  thousand  feet, 


Also,  having  been  similarly  outraged  once  before,  he 
iemanded  to  know  why  he  had  been  sent  California 
spruce;  whereupon  Live  Wire  Luiz  called  up  Cappy 
Ricks,  abused  him  roundly  and  sent  him  a  bill  for  six 
lollars  a  thousand,  rebate!  Unfortunately  for  the 
iVest  Coast  Trading  Company,  however,  it  had  already 
liscounted  Cappy's  invoice;  so  the  latter  could  afford 
to  stand  pat  —  which  he  did. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

Shortly  after  noon  on  the  day  of  his  small  trium] 
over  the  West  Coast  Trading  Company,  Gappy  Ricl 
bustled  up  California  Street,  bound  for  luncheon  wi1 
the  Bilgewater  Club. 

On  this   day,  of  all  days,   Cappy  would  not 
missed  luncheon  with  the  Bilgewater  Club  for  a  fai 
As  he  breezed  along  there  was  a  smile  on  his  ruddy  olc 
face  and  a  lilt  in  his  kind  old  heart,  for  he  was  re 
hearsing  his  announcement  to  his  youthful  friends 
how  he  had  but  recently  tanned  the  hide  of  a  brothei 
He  almost  laughed  aloud  as  he  pictured  himself  sol 
emnly  relating,  in  the  presence  of  J.  Augustus  Redel 
and  Live  Wire  Luiz,  the  tale  of  the  ill-favored  spru< 
excusing  his  own  mendacity  the  while  on  the  groui 
that  he  wasn't  a  mind  reader ;  that  if  the  West  Coa< 
Lumber  Company  desired  northern  spruce  they  shoul 
have  stipulated  northern  spruce ;  that,  as  alleged  bi 
ness  men,  it  was  high  time  they  were  made  aware 
the  ancient  principle  of  caveat  emptor,  which  meai 
as  every  schoolboy  knows,  that  the  buyer  must  prot( 
himself  in  the  clinches  and  breakaways.     And  lastly, 
he  planned  to  claim  it  the  solemn  duty  of  the  aged  to 
instruct  the  young  and  ignorant  in  the  hard  school  of 
experience. 

Judge,  therefore,  of  his  disappointment  when,  on 
entering  the  lobby  of  the  Merchants'  Exchange  Build 
ing,  on  the  two  top  floors  of  which  the  Commercial 

248 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  249 

Club  is  situated,  he  encountered  Redell  and  Live  Wire 
Luiz  leaving  the  elevator. 

The  West  Coast  Trading  Company  had  offices  in  the 
same  building  and,  as  Redell  carried  a  plethoric  suit 
case,  while  Live  Wire  Luiz  followed  with  a  small  hand 
bag,  Gappy  realized  they  were  bound  for  parts  un 
known.  In  consequence  of  which  he  realized  he  had 
rehearsed  to  no  purpose  his  expose  of  the  pair  before 
the  Bilgewater  Club.  He  halted  the  partners  and  se 
cured  a  firm  grip  on  the  lapel  of  each. 

"Cowards !"  he  sneered.  "Running  out  on  me,  eh? 
By  Judas  Priest,  I  just  knew  you  didn't  dast  to  stay 
and  hear  me  tell  the  boys  about  that  spruce.  Drat 
you !  The  next  time  you'll  know  the  difference  between 
attar  of  roses  and  California  spruce !" 

Redell  put  down  his  suit  case,  pulled  out  his  watch, 
glanced  at  it  and  then  at  his  partner. 

"Shall  I  tell  him,  Luiz?"  he  queried. 

Live  Wire  Luiz  thereupon  consulted  his  watch, 
scratched  his  ear  and  said: 

"Friend  of  my  heart,  do  you  theenk  eet  ees  safe?" 

"Oh,  yes.  He  isn't  a  bit  dangerous,  Luiz.  He's  lost 
all  his  teeth  and  all  he  can  do  now  is  sit  and  bay  at 
the  moon." 

Live  Wire  Luiz  shrugged. 

"I  theenk  maybe  so  you  are  right,  amigo  mlo.  The 
steamer  she  will  go  to  depart  in  half  an  hour,  an' 
that  ees  not  time  for  thees  ol'  high-binder  to  do  some- 
b'ing.  Eet  ees  what  you  call  one  stiff  li'P  order.  I 
idmit  thees  spruce  bandit  ees  pretty  smart,  but — " 
igain  Live  Wire  Luiz  shrugged  his  expressive  shoul 
ders — "he  ees  pretty  ol',  no?  I  theenk  to  myself  he 


250  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

have  lose — what  you  call  heem?  ah,  yes,  he  have  lose 
hees  punch !" 

"I  fear  he  has,  Luiz;  so  I'll  tell  him.  At  least  the 
knowledge  will  gravel  him  and  take  all  the  joy  out  of 
that  stinking  little  spruce  swindle  of  his." 

"'Twon't  neither!"  Gappy  challenged.  "I  stung 
you  there — drat  your  picture! — and  I'm  glad  I  did  it. 
I  rejoice  in  my  wickedness.  Cost  you  five  hundred 
dollars  for  making  a  monkey  out  of  the  old  man  in 
that  grape-stake  deal,  Gus." 

"Why,"  said  Redell  wonderingly,  "I  thought  you'd 
forgiven  me  that,  Gappy." 

"So  I  have ;  but  I  haven't  forgotten.  Expect  me  to 
lose  my  self-respect  and  forget  about  it?  No,  sir! 
When  I  go  into  a  deal  and  emerge  in  the  red,  I  take  a 
look  at  my  loss-and-gain  account  and  forget  it ;  but 
when  I'm  ravished  of  my  self-respect — wow!  Look 
out  below  and  get  out  from  under!  In-fer-nal  young 
scoundrel!  If  I  don't  show  you  two  before  I  die  that 
I  haven't  lost  my  punch  I'll  come  back  from  the  grave 
to  ha'nt  you.  Go  on  and  spin  your  little  tale,  Augus 
tus.  You  can't  tell  me  anything  that'll  make  me  mad. 
What  you  got  on  your  mind  besides  your  hair,  Gus? 
Out  with  it,  boy;  out  with  it!  I'm  listening." 

And  Gappy  came  close  to  Redell  and  inclined  his 
head  close  to  the  young  fellow's  breast ;  whereupon 
Redell  put  his  lips  close  to  Cappy's  ear  and  answered 
hoarsely : 

"I'm  going  to  Papeete  to  bid  in  that  sunken  German 
steamer,  Valkyrie." 

Gappy  nodded. 

"Huh!"  he  said.     "Is  that  all?    Well,  when  you  re- 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  251 

turn  from  Papeete  you're  going  to  take  another  jour 
ney  right  away." 

"Where?" 

"Into  the  bankruptcy  court  first,  and  then  up  to 
the  Home  for  the  Feeble-Minded.  On  the  level,  boy, 
you're  overdue  at  the  foolish  farm." 

"I'll  take  a  chance,  Gappy.  All  you  old  graybeards 
can  do  is  sit  on  the  fence  and  decry  the  efforts  of  the 
rising  generation.  You  just  croak  and  knock.  Of 
course  I  admit  that  once  on  a  time  an  opportunity 
couldn't  fly  by  you  so  fast  you  wouldn't  get  some  of 
the  tail  feathers ;  but  that  was  a  long  time  ago." 

He  paused  and  glanced  at  his  partner.  Sorrowfully 
Live  Wire  Luiz  tapped  his  forehead  with  his  brown, 
cigarette-stained  forefinger. 

"Senile  decay!"  Redell  murmured. 

"Sure ;  I  bet  you,  Mike !"  Live  Wire  Luiz  answered. 

He  wagged  his  head  lugubriously,  turned  aside  and 
affected  to  wipe  away  a  vagrant  tear  with  his  salmon- 
colored  silk  handkerchief. 

"Look  here !"  Gappy  rasped.  "This  thing  is  getting 
personal.  Never  mind  about  my  years,  you  pup !  If 
my  back  is  bent  a  trifle  it's  from  carrying  a  load  of  ex 
perience  and  other  people's  mistakes.  And  never  mind 
about  my  noodle !  It  may  have  a  few  knots  and  shakes 
in  it,  but  they're  tight  and  sound,  and  it's  free  of  pitch 
pockets,  wane  and  rotten  streaks;  so  this  old  head 
grades  as  merchantable  timber  still. 

"As  for  your  head,  Gus,  and  that  of  this  human 
firecracker  with  you,  both  have  streaks  of  sap  round 
the  edges,  and  I'll  prove  it  to  you  yet.  No ;  on  second 
thought  I  don't  have  to  prove  it.  You've  already  done 


252  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

that  yourself !  You're  going  to  Papeete  to  try  to  bid 
in  the  Valkyrie,  and  she's  junk!" 

"Partly."  Redell  admitted.  "She's  been  under  water 
about  two  years  and  I  suppose  the  teredo  have  digested 
her  upper  works  by  now ;  but  they  can  be  rebuilt  quickly 
and  without  a  great  deal  of  expense." 

"How  about  her  boilers?  You'll  have  to  retube 
them." 

"I  don't  think  so.  I  was  talking  with  Captain 
Hippard,  of  the  Morrison-Hippard  Line.  They  had 
the  steamer  Chinook  under  water  a  year  in  Norton 
Sound,  but  they  raised  her  and  brought  her  to  San 
Francisco  under  her  own  steam.  You  know,  Cappy, 
it's  the  combination  of  water  and  air  that  makes  iron 
and  steel  rust.  It  seems  that  when  a  boiler  is  under 
water  and  not  exposed  to  the  air  it  rusts  very  slowly; 
also,  the  rust  is  like  a  soft  film — it  doesn't  pit  and 
scale  off  in  great  flakes.  And  a  couple  of  years  under 
water  will  not  do  any  appreciable  damage  to  the  Valky- 
rie's  boilers.  The  Chinook  is  running  yet,  notwithstand 
ing  the  fact  that  fifteen  years  ago  she  was  submerged 
for  a  year." 

"Huh!"  Cappy  grunted. 

"The  same  condition,  of  course,  holds  true  with 
regard  to  her  hull,  only  more  so,"  Redell  continued. 
"The  paint  will  protect  the  hull  perfectly.  Of  course 
if,  after  getting  her  up,  she  is  permitted  to  lie  exposed 
to  the  air,  the  soft  film  of  rust  will  promptly  harden 
and  scale  off  and  she'll  go  to  glory  in  a  few  months. 
However,  nothing  like  that  will  happen,  because  the 
minute  she's  up  she'll  be  thoroughly  cleaned  and 
scrubbed  and  painted.  Of  course  the  asbestos  cover 
will  have  peeled  off  her  boilers,  but  even  at  that  I'll 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  253 

bring  her  to  San  Francisco  under  her  own  steam.  She'll 
just  be  ungodly  hot  below  decks  and  a  hog  for  coal 
until  the  boilers  are  re-covered." 

Gappy  sighed.  He  was  not  prepared  to  combat  this 
argument,  for  he  had  a  sneaking  impression  Redell 
was  right.  However,  he  returned  undaunted  to  the 
attack. 

"She's  shot  full  of  holes,"  he  declared. 

"She  has  one  hole  through  her,  and  when  she's  loaded 
light  that  hole  is  above  water  line.  The  wrecking  vessel 
that  goes  down  to  salve  her  will  have  steel  plates,  tools 
and  mechanics  aboard,  and  new  plates  can  be  put  in 
temporarily.  And  if  that  cannot  be  done  those  holes 
can  be  patched  with  planking  and  cemented  over." 

"Well,  all  right.  Grant  that.  But  think  of  her 
engines,  Gus.  Think  of  those  fine,  smooth  bearings 
and  polished  steel  rods  all  corroded  and  pitted  by  salt 
water.  The  water  may  not  have  a  disastrous  effect  on 
the  boilers  and  hull,  but  an  engine  can't  stand  any  rust 
at  all  and  still  remain  one  hundred  per  cent  efficient.  I 
tell  you  I  know,  Gus.  I  had  my  Amelia  Ricks  submerged 
on  Duxbury  Reef  for  a  week;  then  I  hauled  her  off 
and  she  lay  on  the  tide  flats  in  Mission  Bay  another 
three  weeks  until  I  could  patch  her  up  and  float  her 
into  the  dry  dock.  Do  you  know  what  it  cost  me  to 
make  her  engines  over  again?  Thirteen  thousand  dol 
lars,  young  man — and,  at  that,  they're  nothing  to  brag 
of  now." 

"Quite  right;  but  that's  because  you  didn't  employ 
a  German  engineer  and  tell  him  you  were  going  to  put 
the  Amelia  Ricks  on  Duxbury  Reef.  Are  you  familiar 
with  the  characteristics  of  German  engineers,  Cappy?" 

Cappy  threw  up  both  hands. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"I'm  neutral,  Gus.  Between  them  and  the  French 
it's  a  case  of  heads  I  win,  tails  you  lose." 

"No,  no,  Gappy.  You're  wrong.  The  Germans  are 
a  careful,  thrifty,  painstaking,  systematic  race,  and 
the  chief  of  the  Valkyrie  was  the  flower  of  the  flock. 
When  that  little  French  gunboat  captured  her  this 
chief  engineer  looked  into  the  future  and  saw  himself 
and  the  Valkyrie  interned  indefinitely — and  he  didn't 
like  it.  It  just  broke  his  heart  to  think  of  a  stranger 
messing  round  among  his  engines;  so  the  instant  he 
got  into  Papeete  and  blew  down  his  boilers  he  did  a 
wise  thing.  He  knew  the  war  risk  insurance  would 
probably  cover  the  Valkyrie's  loss  as  a  war  prize,  but 
there  was  a  chance  that  her  German  owners  might  send 
one  of  their  hyphenated  brethren  down  to  Papeete  to 
buy  her  in  the  prize  court;  and  if  that  happened  the 
chief  wanted  them  to  have  a  good  ship.  Perhaps,  also, 
he  figured  on  getting  his  old  job  back  after  the  war. 
At  any  rate  he  got  out  ^  a.  barrel  of  fine  heavy  grease 
and  slobbered  up  his  Imgines  for  fair." 

It  was  too  much.  Gappy  Ricks  was  too  fine  a  sport 
not  to  acknowledge  a  beating ;  he  was  too  generous  not 
to  rejoice  in  a  competitor's  gain. 

"You  lucky,  lucky  scoundrel!"  he  murmured  in  an 
awed  voice.  "Not  enough  salt  water  will  get  through 
that  grease  to  hurt  those  engines.  Gus,  how  did  you 
find  this  all  out?" 

"Well,  you  can  bet  your  whiskers,  Gappy,  I  didn't 
depend  on  hearsay  evidence  and  water-front  reporters 
to  dig  it  up  for  me.  The  minute  I  heard  her  sea  cocks 
had  been  opened  and  that  her  funnels  and  masts  were 
sticking  up  out  of  the  harbor  I  concluded  I  was  inter 
ested;  so  I  sent  Bill  Jinks,  of  our  office,  down  to 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  255 

Papeete  to  get  me  some  first-hand  information.  The 
chief  of  the  Valkyrie  is  interned  there,  of  course." 

"May  mad  dogs  bite  me!  Why  in  the  name  of  all 
that's  sweet  and  holy  didn't  I  have  sense  enough  to  do 
that?"  Cappy  mourned. 

"You  have  lose  the  punch !"  chirped  Live  Wire  Luiz, 
and  Cappy  glared  at  him. 

"She's  an  honest  vessel,  Cappy." 

"An'  what  you  s'pose  she  have  in  her?"  Live  Wire 
Luiz  demanded.  "Oh,  notheeng  very  much,  Senor 
Ricks.  Just  two  t'ousand  tons  of  phosphate." 

"Worth  ten  or  twelve  dollars  a  ton,  Cappy." 

"An5  t'irteen  hundred  tons  of  the  good  coal  to  bring 
her  to  San  Francisco.  Ai,  Santa  Maria!"  Live  Wire 
Luiz  blew  a  kiss  airily  into  space  and  added:  "I  die 
weeth  dee-light!" 

"You  haven't  got  her  yet,"  Cappy  snapped  viciously. 

"No;  but  we'll  get  her  all  right,"  Redell  declared 
confidently. 

"How'll  you  get  her?" 

"We've  only  one  real  competitor  to  buck — an  Aus 
tralian  steamship  company.  They're  crazy  to  get  her; 
and  as  there  are  no  French  bidders  on  this  side  of  the 
world,  naturally  and  in  view  of  the  present  condition 
of  world  politics  the  French  authorities  in  Papeete  are 
pulling  for  the  Britisher.  Jinks  is  now  in  Papeete  and 
I'm  about  to  start  for  there  at  one  o'clock.  Two  bids, 
Cappy;  I'll  be  the  dark  horse  and  file  my  bid  at  the 
last  minute,  after  I've  sized  up  the  lay  of  the  land. 
But,  before  I  do  so,  I'm  going  to  take  the  representa 
tive  of  that  Australian  steamship  company  into  my 
confidence  and  find  out  what  he's  going  to  bid.  For 


256  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

instance,  now,  Gappy,  if  you  were  bidding *against  me, 
how  high  would  you  go?" 

"She's  a  long  way  from  nowhere,'*  Gappy  replied 
thoughtfully.  "It  means  sending  a  wrecking  steamer 
down  there  with  a  lot  of  expert  wreckers,  divers,  me 
chanics  and  carpenters ;  it  means  lumber  for  coffer  dam 
and  pontoons ;  it  means  donkey  engines,  cables,  pumps, 
the  stress  of  wind  and  wave " 

"She  lies  in  a  protected  cove,  Gappy;  the  mean  rise 
and  fall  of  the  tide,  so  close  to  the  equator,  is  about 
eighteen  inches,  and  the  water  is  so  clear  you  can 
always  see  what  the  divers  are  doing.  Forget  the 
stress  of  wind  and  wave." 

"Forty  thousand  dollars  would  be  my  top  figure  if 
I  were  the  Australian  bidder,"  Gappy  declared,  and 
added  to  himself:  "But,  as  Alden  P.  Ricks,  seventy-five 
might  not  stagger  me  in  view  of  the  present  freight 
rates." 

"Just  what  I  figured,"  Redell  answered.  "She'll  cost 
us  two  hundred  thousand  dollars  before  we  get  her  in 
commission  again.  I  figure  the  Australian  people  will 
not  go  over  forty  thousand  dollars.  They  won't  figure 
Jinks  as  a  heavyweight.  I  told  him  to  create  the  im 
pression  that  he  was  a  professional  wrecker — a  sort 
of  fly-by-night  junk  dealer,  who  would  buy  the  vessel 
if  he  could  get  her  at  a  great  bargain.  Then  I'll  drop 
quietly  into  Papeete,  and  at  the  eleventh  hour  fifty- 
ninth  minute  I'll  slip  in  a  bid  that  will  top  the  Aus 
tralian's.  If  by  any  chance  Jinks*  bid  should  also  top 
the  Australian's  I'll  just  forfeit  the  certified  check 
for  ten  per  cent  of  my  bid,  run  out  and  leave  the  ship 
to  Jinks,  the  next  highest  bidder.  The  chances  are  I'll 
make  a  few  thousand  dollars  at  that." 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  257 

"How  do  you  purpose  raising  her — provided  you  are 
the  successful  bidder?" 

"Well,  she  has  four  hatches  and  she  lies  on  an  even 
keel.  I'll  build  a  coffer  dam  on  her  deck  round  these 
four  hatches  and  pump  her  out.  If  we  have  enough 
pumps  we  can  pump  her  out  faster  than  the  water  can 
leak  in  under  the  coffer  dam.  When  I've  lightened  her 
somewhat  I'll  kick  her  into  the  shore,  little  by  little, 
until  she  lies  in  shallow  water  with  her  bulwarks  above 
the  surface.  Then  I'll  patch  the  holes  in  her,  pump 
her  out — and  up  she'll  come,  of  course." 

"You  say  that  so  glibly,"  Cappy  growled,  "one 
would  almost  think  you  could  whistle  it." 

"Don't  feel  sore,  Cappy.  Do  you  know  what  a 
vessel  of  her  age  and  class  is  worth  nowadays?  Well, 
I'll  tell  you.  About  sixty  dollars  a  ton,  dead  weight 
capacity — and  the  Valkyrie  can  carry  seven  thousand 
tons ;  that's  four  hundred  and  twenty  thousand  dol 
lars " 

"If  you  can  get  her  up,"  Cappy  interrupted. 

"If  I  bid  her  in  I'll  get  her  up.    Don't  worry." 

"It'll  clean  you  of  your  bank  roll  to  do  it." 

"Of  course.  Luiz  and  I  aren't  millionaires  like  you ; 
so  we'll  just  form  a  corporation  and  call  it  the  S.  S. 
Valkyrie  Company  and  sell  stock  in  our  venture.  I 
have  you  down  right  now  for  a  ten-thousand-dollar 
subscription  at  the  very  least,  though  you  can  have 
more  if  you  want  it." 

"Gus,"  Cappy  pleaded,  "if  you  bid  that  boat  in 
for  forty  thousand  dollars  I'll  give  you  ten  thousand 
dollars  for  your  bargain  and  reimburse  you  for  all  the 
expense  you've  been  put  to." 

"Nothing  doing,  Cappy." 


258  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"I'll  make  it — let  me  see — I'll  make  it  twenty  thou 
sand." 

"You  waste  your  breath.  She'll  pay  for  herself  the 
first  year  she's  in  commission." 

"I'll  furnish  the  sinews  of  war,  Gus,  for  a  half  in 
terest  in  her.  Let  me  add  her  to  the  Blue  Star  Fleet 
and  you'll  never  regret  it." 

"Sorry,  Cappy;  but  Luiz  and  I  are  ambitious.  We 
want  to  get  into  the  steamship  business  ourselves." 

"Well,  then,  I've  offered  to  do  the  fair  thing  by  you 
two  lunatics,"  Cappy  declared  with  a  great  air  of 
finality.  "So  now  I'll  deliver  my  ultimatum:  I'm  going 
to  keep  the  Valkyrie  and  not  give  you  two  as  much  as, 
one  little  piece  of  her.  Yes,  sir!  I'm  going  to  send 
a  representative  to  Papeete  and  match  you  and  that 
Australian  chap  for  your  shoe-strings.  Gus,  you  know 
me !  If  I  ever  go  after  a  thing  and  don't  get  it,  the 
man  that  takes  it  away  from  me  will  know  he's  been  in 
a  fight." 

"Indeed,  I  know  it,  Cappy — which  is  why  I  kept  this 
information  carefully  to  myself.  However,  I  guess 
you'll  not  get  in  on  this  good  thing." 

"Why?" 

"You're  too  late  for  the  banquet." 

"Not  one  leetle  hope  ees  left  for  you,  Cappy  Reeks," 
Senor  Almeida  asserted.  "The  Moana,  on  which  my 
good  partner  have  engaged  passage  to-day,  ees  the 
last  steamer  which  shall  arrive  to  Papeete  before  the 
bids  shall  be  open.  The  next  steamer,  Capitan  Reeks 
ees  arrive  too  late." 

"Yes;  and  the  Moana  sails  in  just  twenty-five  min 
utes,  Cappy.  If  you're  thinking  of  sending  a  man 
down  to  bid  against  me  you'll  have  to  step  lively." 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  259 

Cappy  Ricks  was  now  beside  himself;  this  gentle, 
good-natured  heckling  had  made  of  him  a  venerable 
Pury. 

"I'll  cable  my  bid!"  he  shrilled. 

"No  you  won't  Cappy,  for  the  reason  that  there  is 
no  cable  to  Tahiti." 

"Then  I'll  wireless  it!" 

"Well,  you  can  try  that,  Cappy.  Unfortunately, 
however,  the  only  wireless  station  in  Tahiti  is  a  little, 
old,  one-cat-power  set.  It  can  receive  your  message, 
but  it  can't  send  one  that  will  reach  the  nearest  wire 
less  station — and  that's  at  Honolulu.  And  until  the 
bank  in  Tahiti  can  confirm  drafts  by  wireless  I  imagine 
it  will  not  pay  them  on  presentation." 

Cappy  surrendered.    He  couldn't  stand  any  more. 

"Good-bye,  Gus,"  he  said.  "Good  luck  to  you !  If 
you  get  that  vessel  you'll  deserve  her,  and  when  you're 
forming  the  S.S.  Valkyrie  Company  I'll  head  the  list 
of  stock  subscribers  with  a  healthy  little  chunk.  You 
know  me,  Gus !  I'm  the  old  bell  mare  in  shipping 
circles;  a  lot  of  others  will  follow  where  I  lead." 

"I  forgive  you  the  spruce  deal,  Cappy.  You're  an 
awful  pirate;  but,  for  all  that,  you're  a  grand  piece 
of  work.  God  bless  you!"  And  Redell  put  his  arm 
round  the  old  man  affectionately.  "Good-bye." 

And,  followed  by  Live  Wire  Luiz,  who  was  going 
to  the  dock  to  see  his  partner  aboard  the  Moana,  Redell 
disappeared  into  California  Street. 

"Dammit!"  Cappy  soliloquized  bitterly.  "I  can't 
eat  lunch  now.  One  bite  would  choke  me." 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

And  he  turned  toward  the  entrance  to  the  Mer 
chants'  Exchange,  being  minded  to  enter  a  telephone 
booth  and  notify  the  Bilgewater  Club  he  would  not  be 
present  that  day.  As  he  walked  through  the  gate 
into  the  Exchange,  however,  he  was  accosted  by  a 
heavy,  florid-faced  man  carrying  a  thick  woolen  watch 
coat  over  his  arm.  This  individual  was  Captain  Aaron 
Porter,  one  of  the  San  Francisco  bar  pilots,  and  he 
greeted  Cappy  with  a  respectful  query  after  the  old 
gentleman's  health. 

"I  don't  feel  very  well,"  Cappy  replied  wearily.  "I'm 
getting  old,  captain — getting  old." 

Then  he  noted  the  watch  coat  the  pilot  was  carrying 
and  decided  subconsciously  that  there  could  be  no  con 
nection  between  it  and  the  sultry  August  weather  pre 
vailing  at  that  moment ;  consequently  it  informed  the 
observant  Cappy,  as  plainly  as  if  it  had  a  tongue  and 
had  spoken,  that  Captain  Aaron  Porter  expected 
shortly  to  be  exposed  to  the  chill  northwest  winds  out 
side  as  he  piloted  a  vessel  to  sea.  In  the  manufacture 
of  sheer  inane  conversation,  therefore,  Cappy  tugged 
the  coat  and  said: 

"Going  to  take  a  ship  out  this  afternoon,  captain?" 

"Yes,  sir.  I'll  be  responsible  for  the  Mo  ana  until  we 
cross  the  Potato  Patch " 

"The  Moana!"  Cappy  cried,  and  pulled  out  his 

260 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  261 

watch.  "You'd  better  be  stepping  lively,  then.  She 
sails  at  one,  and  you  have  twenty  minutes  to  get  to 
Greenwich  Street  Pier." 

"Oh,  there's  no  hurry,  Mr.  Ricks.  She'll  be  delayed 
from  half  to  three-quarters  of  an  hour  waiting  for  the 
Australian  mail.  The  mail  train  from  the  East  is  late, 
and  of  course  the  Moana  cannot  sail  till " 

"You  will  pardon  me,  captain,"  Gappy  Ricks  inter 
rupted  politely,  "but  I've  just  thought  of  a  very  im 
portant  matter.  I  must  run  and  telephone." 

As  J.  Augustus  Redell  had  just  pointed  out,  twenty 
minutes  was  scarcely  ample  time  in  which  to  decide  on 
the  right  emissary  to  send  to  Papeete,  get  into  com 
munication  with  the  said  individual  and  induce  him  to 
go.  In  addition,  such  a  person  would  have  to  have 
time  to  pack  some  clothing;  also,  to  procure  a  letter 
of  credit  at  the  bank  and  purchase  a  ticket,  not  to 
mention  the  time  requisite  to  receive  his  instructions 
and  get  to  the  steamer's  dock.  But  with  almost  an 
hour- — well,  a  wide-awake  man  can  accomplish  much  in 
an  hour,  and  Cappy  Ricks  was  a  natural  leader  of 
forlorn  hopes.  In  the  brief  interval  required  to  accom 
plish  the  journey  from  the  door  of  the  Merchants* 
Exchange  to  a  telephone  booth  a  flock  of  bright  ideas 
capered  through  Cappy's  ingenious  head  like  goats  on 
a  tin  roof. 

"Main  2000 !"  he  barked,  and  in  five  seconds  he  had 
the  connection.  "Put  Skinner  on  the  line!" 

Cappy's  own  private  exchange  operator  had  the 
temerity  to  inform  him  that  Mr.  Skinner  was  out  at 
luncheon. 

"The  in-fer-nal  scoundrel — just  when  I  need  him! 
Put  Captain  Matt  Peasley  on  the  line,  and  be  quick 


262  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

about  it.  Matt!  Matt,  listen!  This  is  the  old  man 
speaking.  Get  an  earful  of  what  I'm  going  to  tell 
you  now,  and  don't  ask  any  questions — just  obey! 
Do  you  remember  that  big  German  freighter — the 
Valkyrie — sunk  in  Papeete  Harbor?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"She's  a  prize,  Matt.  I've  just  been  given  a  low- 
down  on  her  condition.  Gus  Redell  is  leaving  on  the 
Moana  to  bid  her  in  at  the  government  sale — the  young 
scoundrel  told  me  all  about  it  and  twitted  me  because 
we  were  asleep  on  the  job  and  let  the  good  thing  get 
away  from  us.  The  Moana's  supposed  to  sail  at  one 
o'clock,  but  the  Eastern  mail  is  late — she  won't  get 
away  from  the  dock  until  about  one- thirty;  but  when 
she  does " 

"When  she  does  we'll  have  a  man  aboard  her  to  beat 
Redell  to  the  German  steamer,"  Matt  Peasley  inter 
rupted.  "I've  got  the  message.  Where  are  you, 
father-in-law  ?" 

"At  the  Merchants'  Exchange." 

"You  attend  to  the  funds  and  I'll  do  the  rest." 

"Confound  you  !'r  rasped  Cappy  Ricks.  "You're  so 
headstrong,  you'll  jam  things  up  yet  if  you  don't  listen 
to  me." 

"But  you'll  have  to  send  somebody  Redell  doesn't 
know." 

"That  doesn't  matter  at  all.  Now,  son,  will  you 
listen  to  me?  I'll  attend  to  the  money  and  I'll  also 
frame  this  entire  deal.  Is  Miss  Keenan  in  the  office— 
you  know — Skinner's  stenographer?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"She's  been  wanting  to  go  on  a  vacation.     When 
heard  about  it  I  asked  her  how  she'd  like  a  cruise 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  263 

Alaska — remember  we  have  the  TiUicum  leaving  at 
six  to-night  for  St.  Michael's.  She  said  that  would 
be  fine ;  so  I  gave  her  a  pass  and  the  owner's  suite 
on  the  Tillicum" 

"So  I  hear.  Her  trunk  was  sent  to  the  Tillicum's 
dock  this  morning  and  she  has  her  suit  case  in  the 
office.  She  planned  to  work  today  and  go  aboard  the 
Tillicum  after  office  hours." 

"Good!  Then  she's  all  ready  lor  a  voyage  to 
Tahiti.  Have  the  private  exchange  operator  phone  our 
wharf  office  instantly  and  tell  them  to  load  Miss 
Keenan's  trunk  on  the  first  wagon  handy  and  rush  it 
over  to  the  Moana.  Give  Miss  Keenan  fifteen  hundred 
dollars  and  tell  her  she's  to  go  to  Papeete.  If  she  kicks 
about  clothes  tell  her  to  get  along  with  what  she  has 
and  buy  what  she  needs  on  arrival." 

He  waited  while  Matt  Peasley  gave  the  necessary 
instructions  to  the  exchange  operator.  Then: 

"It's  all  right,  sir.  Miss  Keenan  will  go.  She'll 
be  on  her  way  in  five  minutes.  I've  told  her  to  go 
aboard  and  buy  her  ticket  from  the  purser  or  from 
the  ticket  agent  at  the  gang  plank." 

"Fine  business !  Now  who  else  have  we  in  our  employ 
that  I  can  send?  I  want  a  man — and  a  rattling  smart 
one." 

"Mike  Murphy,  the  skipper  of  the  Narcissus,"  Matt 
suggested. 

"The  very  man!  He's  discharging  at  Union  Street 
Wharf.  Phone  the  wharfinger's  office  and  tell  him  he'll 
not  regret  taking  a  message  down  to  the  dock  to  Cap 
tain  Murphy.  Murphy  will  probably  be  at  lunch 
aboard.  Tell  the  wharfinger  to  tell  him  to  throw  a  few 
clothes  into  a  suit  case — that  he's  to  go  to  Papeete  on 


264  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

mighty  important  business — and  to  meet  me  at  the  head 
of  Greenwich  Street  Dock  at  one-twenty,  without  fail, 
for  his  orders  and  his  money.  Having  phoned  these 
orders,  Matt,  take  the  office  automobile  and  scorch 
to  the  water  front  to  see  that  they're  carried  out. 
Take  Miss  Keenan  with  you.  Good-bye." 

And  Gappy  Ricks  dashed  out  of  the  Merchants'  Ex 
change  as  though  the  devil  was  at  his  heels  walloping 
.him  at  every  jump.  It  was  four  blocks  to  the  Marine 
National  Bank,  but  the  California  Street  cable  car  took 
him  there  in  four  minutes.  Gasping  and  perspiring 
Gappy  trotted  into  the  cashier's  office,  where  for  ten 
precious  seconds  he  stood,  open-mouthed,  unable  to 
say  a  word. 

"Well,  Mr.  Ricks,"  the  cashier  greeted  him,  "if  you 
can't  talk  make  signs." 

Gappy  flapped  his  hands  and  made  three  rapid 
strokes  with  his  index  finger,  like  a  motion-picture 
actor  writing  a  twelve-line  letter;  then  the  words  cam< 
in  a  veritable  cascade. 

"Letters  of  credit,"  he  croaked — "two."  The  cashi( 
picked  up  a  pencil  and  a  scratch  pad.  "One,  twent; 
five  thousand,  favor  Michael  J.  Murphy;  one,  favor- 
oh,  what  in  blue  blazes  is  that  girl's  first  name?  01 
dear !  Oh,  dear !  I  never  heard  her  first  name — she's 
just  Miss  Keenan.  Oh,  the  devil !  Call  her  Matilda- 
that's  it — Matilda  Keenan — fifty  thousand  dollars  foi 
her;  and " 

"You  appear  to  be  in  a  terrific  hurry  for  them,  M] 
Ricks,  so  I'll  get  them  started  immediately,"  the  cashi( 
interrupted,  and  turned  his  memorandum  over  to 
underling,  with  instructions  to  give  Mr.  Ricks'  lettei 
of  credit  precedence  over  all  other  business. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  265 

"Now  write — check — your  favor — seventy  thousand. 
I'll  sign  it — hope  Skinner  has  enough  cash  on  deposit ; 
if  he  hasn't — my  personal  note,  you  know." 

"A  mere  trifle,  Mr.  Ricks.  We  will  not  worry  over 
that."  The  cashier  filled  in  the  check  and  Gappy 
signed  it  with  a  trembling  hand.  "And  now,"  the 
cashier  continued,  "we  will  have  to  have  Miss  Keenan 
and  Mr.  Murphy  come  to  the  bank  to  register  their 
respective  signatures " 

"Nothing  doing !"  Gappy  piped.  "Give  me  the  cards 
and  I'll  have  'em  write  their  signatures  on  them  aboard 
the  steamer  and  send  them  ashore  by  the  pilot.  None 
o*  your  efficiency  monkey  business,  my  son !  I  guar 
antee  everything." 

He  dashed  to  the  telephone  and  yelled  into  the  re 
ceiver:  "Taxicab!  Taxicab!" 

"One  of  the  cars  belonging  to  the  bank  is  at  the 
curb,  Mr.  Ricks.  The  chauffeur  will  take  you  where- 
ever  you  desire  to  go,"  the  cashier  suggested. 

"Bully  for  you!"  Again  Gappy  commenced  to  flap 
his  hands.  "Stenographer — wrhere's  the  stenographer? 
Oh,  Judas  Priest,  nobody  helps  me!  Bless  your  sweet 
heart,  my  dear,  here  you  are,  aren't  you?  Yes,  and 
I'll  not  forget  you  for  it  either.  No,  no,  no !  No  notes. 
Just  stick  piece  of  paper  in  the  typewriter — now  then ! 
Ready!  Dictation  direct  to  machine.  Er — ah! 
Harumph-h-h !  Oh,  suffering  sailor !  What's  the  name 
of  the  French  bank  in  Papeete?  I  don't  know.  I'm  a 
director  and  vice  president  of  this  infernal  bank — and 
I  don't  know  I'm  alive !  Man,  man,  I  want  it — a  thing 

— a  what-you-may-call-'em — a Oh,  the  devil !  Why 

do  I  deposit  in  this  dratted  bank?  Eureka !  I  have  it ! 
I  want  a  notice." 


266  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"You  mean  an  advice,  Mr.  Ricks."  * 

"Bully  boy !  An  advice.  That's  it.  Holy  mackerel, 
how  I  love  a  man  that's  fast  on  his  feet!  A  notice  to 
the  bank  in  Papeete,  Island  of  Tahiti,  that  you've 
given  Captain  Michael  J.  Murphy  a  letter  of  credit 
for  twenty-five  thousand  dollars — only  one  notice  for 
one  letter  of  credit.  I'm  up  to  skullduggery.  Man, 
man,  why  don't  you  dictate?  Usual  courtesies — good 
customer  of  your  bank — you  know ;  usual  flubdub.  No 
advice  regarding  Miss  Keenan's  letter  of  credit — just 
Murphy's." 

The  cashier  good-naturedly  shouldered  Cappy  Ricks 
aside  and  dictated  to  the  bank's  correspondent  in 
Papeete  a  brief  note  to  the  effect  that  the  Marine 
National  had  that  day  issued  to  Captain  Michael 
J.  Murphy  a  letter  of  credit  in  the  sum  of  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars;  that  it  understood  Captain  Murphy 
was  proceeding  to  Papeete  on  some  matter  of  business 
and  took  this  occasion  to  commend  him  to  their  kindly 
offices. 

"Stick  that  in  an  envelope — address  envelope,  seal 
it,  and  write  outside:  'Kindness  purser  S.S.  Moana? 
The  mail  to  Papeete  is  closed,  but  I'll  see  that  the 
Moana's  purser  delivers  it  to  the  bank,"  Cappy  or' 
dered. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

Ten  minutes  later  Gappy  dashed  up  to  the  entrance 
of  Greenwich  Street  Pier  and  found  Matt  Peasley 
waiting  for  him,  with  Captain  Murphy.  Miss  Keenan 
had  already  gone  aboard  the  Moana,  the  huge  funnel 
of  which,  as  Cappy  noted  with  a  thrill,  was  still  stick 
ing  up  over  the  roof  of  the  dock.  He  crooked  his 
finger  and  Michael  J.  Murphy  leaped  up  on  the  running 
board  of  his  car. 

"Mike,"  said  Cappy  solemnly,  "listen  to  me !  Here's 
a  letter  of  credit  in  your  name  for  twenty-five  thou 
sand  dollars,  and  an  advice  to  the  bank  in  Papeete 
from  our  bank  here  stating  that  the  letter  of  credit 
has  been  issued.  Give  this  letter  to  the  purser,  together 
with  a  good-sized  bill,  and  ask  him  to  deliver  it  to  the 
Papeete  bank  when  the  Moana  arrives  there.  Here, 
also,  is  a  letter  of  credit  for  Miss  Keenan  in  the  sum 
of  fifty  thousand — and  the  bank  in  Papeete  has  no 
notice  of  it!  Remember  that!  It's  important.  Keep 
it  to  yourself.  Miss  Keenan  has  the  expense  money 
for  both  of  you;  tell  her  to  split  the  roll  with  you. 
Tell  her,  also,  that  her  name  from  now  until  she  gets 
back  is  Matilda  Keenan,  and  to  sign  her  drafts  that 
way. 

"Here  are  the  signature  cards.  You  sign  yours  and 
have  her  sign  hers;  then  you  give  both  to  Captain 
Porter,  the  pilot,  when  he  leaves  the  ship,  and  ask  him 

267 


268  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

to  deliver  them  to  me.  I,  in  turn,  will  deliver  them  to 
the  bank.  Tell  Miss  Keenan  she  is  absolutely  under 
your  orders ;  that  she's  to  forget  she  ever  heard  of  the 
lumber  and  shipping  business.  Both  of  you  are  to  keep 
away  from  a  man  by  the  name  of  J.  Augustus  Redell. 
He's  aboard  and  he's  our  enemy,  captain.  He's  going 
to  bid  forty  thousand  dollars  on  the  German  steamer 
Valkyrie;  so  you  bid  forty  thousand  and  five  dollars — 
and  take  her  away  from  him.  At  the  very  last  minute 
have  Miss  Keenan  put  in  a  bid  for  thirty  thousand — 
in  case — you  know,  Mike — we  might  catch  it  going 
and  coming.  It  might  pay  to  have  you  fall  down  on 
your  bid — you  know,  Mike !  She's  the  dark  horse — the 
reserve  capital.  "Papeete^— one-horse  town,  Mike. 
Everybody  knows  the  other  fellow's  business — prin 
cipal  competitor  for  the  steamer  is  an  Australian 
steamship  company.  Considering  condition  world 
politics  today,  and  no  French  bidders,  naturally 
Frenchmen  will  pull  for  the  Britisher.  Expect  bank 
will  leak  and  tell  'em  you  only  arrived  with  twenty-five 
thousand — you  know,  Mike!  Can't  be  too  careful. 
Trust  nobody — and  remember  this  man  Redell  is  the 
smartest  young  man  in  the  world  and  the  trickiest 
scoundrel  under  heaven.  Don't  hold  him  cheap.  He's 
a  holy  terror !  He'd  pinch  the  gold  out  of  your  wisdom 
teeth  while  you'd  be  laughing  at  him." 

'"How  high  am  I  to  go — if  it  becomes  necessary  to 
bid  more  than " 

"Shoot  the  piece!"  Cappy  ordered.  It  is  to  be  re 
gretted  that  the  Bilgewater  Club,  cut  off  from  the 
house  rules  in  a  private  dining  room,  had  a  habit  of 
shooting  craps  occasionally  after  luncheon,  and  Cappy 
Ricks  had  picked  up  the  patois  of  the  game.  "Seventy- 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  269 

five  thousand  is  the  limit;  but  satisfy  yourself  she's 
worth  the  limit  before  you  go  to  it." 

"And  Redell  is  going  to  bid  forty  thousand,  sir?" 

"That's  his  limit.  He  told  me  so  in  confidence  when 
he  felt  certain  I  couldn't  possibly  be  a  competitor — 
told  it  to  me,  and  kidded  me  for  a  dead  one  at  twenty 
minutes  of  one,  when  he  knew  I  couldn't  possibly  have 
time  to  act.  But  he  forgot  the  mail — it  was  de 
layed " 

"I  get  you,  sir.  There's  more  to  this  job  than  merely 
acquiring  the  ship,"  retorted  the  astute  Murphy. 

"There's  a  million  dollars'  worth  of  satisfaction  in 
it  for  me  if  I  can  beat  Gus  Redell  to  that  steamer. 
He  says  I've  lost  my  punch." 

But  Captain  Murphy  was  off  down  the  dock,  suit 
case  in  hand,  while  Cappy  dismissed  his  borrowed  car 
and  climbed  into  the  office  car  with  Matt  Peasley.  Five 
minutes  they  waited  at  the  head  of  the  dock — and  then 
four  huge  motor  trucks,  lajjen  with  mail,  lumbered 
through  the  dock  gate.  Cappy  beamed  into  Captain 
Matt  Peasley's  face. 

"I  guess  this  is  a  rotten  day's  work  for  the  president 
emeritus,  eh?"  he  chuckled.  "President  emeritus!  By 
the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  if  I  waited  for  you  and 
Skinner  to  get  wise  to  all  the  good  things  that  are 
lying  round  loose,  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company 
would  be  in  the  hands  of  a  receiver  writhin  the  year. 
Matt,  if  you  expect  to  manage  the  Blue  Star  you'll 
have  to  wake  up.  You're  slow,  boy — s-1-o-w-w!  For 
heaven's  sake,  don't  force  me  back  into  the  harness ! 
You  know  I've  been  wanting  to  retire  for  years." 

"Well,  our  messengers  are  aboard,  so  let's  get  out 


270  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

of  here.  I'm  hungry ;  I  haven't  had  any  lunch,"  Matt 
replied. 

"Come  to  think  of  it,"  Cappy  answered  cheerfully, 
"I  believe  I  could  eat  a  little  something  myself.  How 
ever,  I  still  have  one  small  duty  to  perform,  Matthew. 
I've  got  to  send  a  wireless." 

"To  whom?" 

"That  scoundrel  Redell,  of  course.  Think  I'm  going 
to  swat  him  and  leave  him  in  ignorance  of  the  fact?" 

Immediately  upon  arrival  at  the  Commercial  Club, 
Cappy  sent  the  following  message: 

"J.  Augustus  Redell, 

"Aboard  S.  S.  Moana. 

"Augustus,  my  dear  young  friend,  I  have  known  men 
who  grew  rich  by  keeping  their  mouths  closed! 

"CAPPY.' 

"There!"  said  Cappy,  as  he  dispatched  this  simpL 
declarative  sentence.  "I'll  wager  one  small  five-cenl 
bag  of  smoking  tobacco  our  friend  Gus  Redell  will  no1 
sleep  to-night.  He'll  just  lie  awake  wondering  what 
in  Sam  Hill  I  meant  by  that." 

When  he  got  back  to  his  office  he  found  an  aerograi 
which  read  as  follows: 

"Alden  P.  Ricks 

"258  California  Street 

"San  Francisco 
"Everything  lovely.  After  getting  aboard  decided  to 
bluff;  went  to  Redell,  told  him  I  was  your  representative. 
He  went  green  clear  back  of  the  ears ;  said  he  had  observed 
delay  in  sailing.  Told  him  he'd  better  quit  and  go  ashore 
with  pilot ;  that  I  had  bank  roll  choke  hippopotamus.  Your 
wireless  handed  him  that  moment!  Would  hesitate  repeat 
his  language.  Have  agreed  pay  him  for  his  first-class 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  271 

ticket.  All  first-class  cabins  sold  out;  had  to  have  it  for 
Matilda.  Steerage  an  awful  place  for  a  skipper,  but  will 
have  to  make  the  best  of  it. 

"MURPHY." 

Mr.  Skinner,  alarmed  at  the  shrill  screams  emanat 
ing  from  Cappy  Ricks'  office,  rushed  in  and  found 
the  president  emeritus  rolling  round  in  his  swivel  chair, 
beating  the  air  and  stamping  on  the  floor. 

"Good  gracious,  Mr.  Ricks!"  Skinner  cried. 
"What's  the  matter?  Are  you  hurt?" 

"Hurt!"  Cappy  shrilled.  "Hurt?  Well,  I  should 
say  so !  Skinner,  my  boy,  if  you  ever  lose  your  punch 
you'll  know  just  how  much  I'm  suffering.  As  Live 
Wire  Luiz  would  say :  'I  die  weeth  dee-light ! '  " 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

Three  months  later  Cappy  Ricks  sat  alone  in  his 
office,  his  feet  on  his  desk,  his  old  head  bowed  on  his 
breast.  Apparently  he  was  having  a  gentle  snooze. 
Suddenly  he  sat  up  with  the  suddenness  of  a  jack-in- 
the-box  and  stepped  to  the  door  leading  to  Mr.  Skin 
ner's  office. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  said,  "do  you  remember 
that  stinking  Humboldt  spruce  I  sawed  off  on  Live 
Wire  Luiz  one  day  when  you  were  out  to  lunch?" 

Mr.  Skinner  nodded. 

"They  claimed  a  rebate  of  six  dollars  a  thousand 
on  it,"  he  declared;  "and  we  declined  to  allow  the 
claim.  Well,  Fve  decided  to  allow  it,  Skinner.  Tell 
Hankins  to  draw  a  check  for  the  rebate  in  full  and 
bring  it  in  to  me.  Send  in  a  stenographer." 

Cappy  clawed  his  whiskers  as  the  stenographer  took 
her  seat  at  his  desk. 

"Ahem!  Hum!  Harumph-h-h !"  he  began.  "Take 
letter." 

"Mr.  J.  Augustus  Redell 

"President  West  Coast  Trading  Co. 

"Merchants'  Exchange  Building,  City. 
"My  dear  Gus:  Having  waited  for  several  weeks  in 
the  hope  of  meeting  you  at  the  Bilgewater  Club,  to  which, 
due  to  some  mysterious  reason,  you  appear  to  have  been 
excessively  disloyal  of  late,  I  despair  of  the  delight  of  a 
personal  interview  and  am  accordingly  writing  you. 

272 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"You  will  recall  that  jag  of  odoriferous  spruce  your 
excitable  partner  was  chump  enough  to  buy  from  the 
Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company.  On  the  receipt  this 
morning  of  a  communication  from  my  exceedingly  capable 
representative  in  Papeete  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  I 
could  afford  to  allow  the  rebate  claimed  by  the  excessively 
sour-balled  Senor  Almeida,,  and  accordingly  I  am  inclosing 
herewith,  to  the  order  of  your  company,  the  Ricks  Lumber 
&  Logging  Company's  check  for  $536.12. 

"I  also  beg  to  tender  you  my  assurance  that  if  I  have 
seemed  in  the  past  to  cherish  an  unchristian  resentment  of 
that  little  deal  in  grape  stakes,  the  memory  of  the  outrage 
no  longer  rankles  in  my  bosom.  For  you,  my  dear  young 
friend,  I  entertain  the  kindliest,  the  most  paternal  of  feel 
ings.  I  have  not  only  forgiven,  but  I  have  also  forgotten; 
for  my  honor  is  clear  again  and  I  figure  I  can  pretty 
blamed  well  afford  myself  the  luxury. 

"Regarding  that  steamer  Valkyrie,  please  be  advised 
that  the  next  steamer  to  Australia,  via  Papeete  and  Rara- 
tonga,  will  carry  a  Blue  Star  flag  and  my  instructions  to 
our  representative  to  have  it  tacked  to  the  main  truck  of 
the  Valkyrie  as  she  |Ues  submerged  in  the  harbor.  Since 
I  assume  you  will  be  interested  in  learning  the  details  of 
our  acquisition  of  the  steamer  in  question,  and  since, 
further,  I  cannot  see  that  I  have  anything  to  lose  by 
withholding  this  interesting  information,  please  be  advised 
that  we  bought  her  in  for  twenty-two  thousand  five  hundred 
dollars. 

"I  fear  you  will  be  inclined  to  doubt  this  and  accuse  me 
of  romancing  for  the  purpose  of  dropping  more  salt  in  a 
wound  still  fresh  and  bleeding;  but  I  assure  you  such  a 
suspicion  would  be  a  grave  injustice  to  an  old  man  whose 
portion  from  you  should  be  pity,  not  opprobrium. 

"To  begin,  it  was  very  easy — after  we  had  you  out  of 
the  way.  Like  a  sensible  man,  you  knew  you  were  licked 
and  threw  up  the  sponge  to  save  yourself  unnecessary 


274  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

punishment.     It  has  been  my  experience  that  only  a  vei 
wise  man  has  sense  enough  to  do  that ;  consequently,  despil 
your  youth  and  impetuosity,  I  seem  to  see  the  glimmer  oi 
a  very   brilliant   commercial    future    for   the   West    Coast 
Trading  Company. 

"However,  to  the  story:  When  Mike  Murphy  got  dow] 
to  Papeete  he  found  a  couple  of  broken-down  junk  dealers 
hanging  round — the  kind  of  fellows  who  would  have  beei 
glad  to  bid  in  the  vessel  at  a  couple  of  thousand  dollai 
for  the  privilege  of  breaking  her  up  for  junk  and  guttinj 
her  of  her   cargo.      A   little  reflection   convinced   Captaii 
Murphy  that  he  could  eliminate  these  small  fry  and  cent 
his   attention  on  the  Australian  steamship   company;   am 
he  was  aided  in  arriving  at  this  conclusion  by  your  Mr. 
Jinks,  whom  he  found  glooming  at  the  dock  on  the  arrival 
of  the  Moana  minus  your  handsome   self.     By  the  way, 
Mr.   Jinks'   action  in  aiding  and  abetting  Murphy,  aft 
discovering  that  his  own  company  was  out  of  the  running 
was  so  sportsmanlike  that,  if  you  will  kindly  advise  me  oi 
the   expense   to   which   you   were   put   in    sending   him 
Papeete,  we  will  gladly  send  you  our  check  to  cover. 

"It  took  the  capable  Murphy  about  an  hour  and  a  half 
to  get  the  lay  of  the  land — and  then  he  started  to  play 
his  little  game.  In  the  rather  restricted  society  of  Papeett 
Murphy  played  the  fool.  Every  little  while  he  would  ap 
parently  acquire  a  small  jag  and  get  very  confidential- 
He  told  everybody  his  business — in  confidence — and  every 
body  in  Papeete  knew  just  how  much  he  was  going  to  bid 
on  the  wreck.  Finally,  the  day  before  the  bids  were 
to  be  opened — Murphy  was  waiting  till  the  last  minute 
before  filing  his — the  captain  of  the  port  got  a  wireless 
from  some  adventurer  down  in  Noumea,  asking  him  to 
withhold  the  opening  of  the  bids  till  he  could  get  up  tff 
Papeete  and  make  a  bid.  Murphy  had  already  fooled 
away  three  weeks  in  Papeete  and  if  the  captain  of  the 
port  hearkened  to  the  request  from  the  man  from  Noumea 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  275 

it  would  mean  a  wait  of  another  three  weeks.  Consequently 
he  awaited  the  next  move  with  interest. 

"Well,  Augustus,  the  captain  of  the  port  had  the  temerity 
to  delay  the  opening  of  the  bids,  and  Murphy  noticed  that 
his  competitor  hired  an  attorney  and  made  a  bitter  and 
formal  protest  against  the  delay.  However,  it  looked  to 
Murphy  like  they  had  made  just  a  little  bit  too  much 
noise — so  he  hired  an  attorney  and  made  a  lot  of  noise 
himself.  The  captain  of  the  port  overruled  both  protests, 
however;  and  about  that  time  Murphy  decided  to  put  over 
a  dirty  Irish  trick.  He  announced  he  could  see  very  clearly 
there  was  a  move  on  to  double-cross  the  legitimate  bidders 
and  that  he  wasn't  going  to  hang  round  any  longer.  The 
Timaru  was  due  the  next  day,  so  he  and  Jinks  engaged 
passage  to  San  Francisco  on  her;  and,  just  before  he  left, 
Murphy  went  up  to  the  bank  and  drew  eighteen  thousand 
dollars  on  his  letter  of  credit. 

"He  got  a  certificate  of  deposit  in  his  own  name,  and 
that  same  afternoon  his  attorney  filed  a  sealed  bid  with  the 
captain  of  the  port. 

"Now  I  had  suspected  there  might  be  a  leak  from  that 
French  bank  in  favor  of  the  Australian;  so  I  had  taken 
care  to  have  it  advised  by  the  Marine  National  here  that 
the  latter  bank  had  issued  a  letter  of  credit  for  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  to  Captain  Murphy.  Therefore,  the 
Papeete  bank  very  naturally  concluded  that  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  was  all  the  money  Murphy  had  with  him ! 
And  when  he  drew  eighteen  thousand  dollars  on  it  they 
thought  they  knew  the  exact  amount  of  his  bid;  they 
thought,  also,  he  had  made  a  bid,  in  view  of  the  fact  that 
his  attorney  filed  one  the  same  afternoon.  At  any  rate, 
the  news  reached  the  Australian  and  he  withdrew  his  bid 
and  substituted  another.  Since  he  was  the  possessor  of 
straight  inside  information  as  to  the  amount  of  his  single 
competitor's  bid,  he  saw  no  reason  why  he  should  waste 
money;  so  he  bid  four  thousand  pounds,  or  approximately 
" 


276  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

nineteen  thousand  five  hundred  dollars.  They  say  he  felt 
pretty  sore  when  the  bids  were  opened  and  the  Valkyrie 
went  to  Miss  Matilda  Keenan  for  twenty-two  thousand  five 
hundred  dollars. 

"Miss  Keenan,  by  the  way,  is  Skinner's  stenographer. 
Murphy  was  only  the  decoy.  She  carried  the  real  bank 
roll  and  nobody  suspected  her;  in  fact,  Murphy  was  so 
certain  of  his  prey  he  didn't  even  bid!  He  tells  me  the 
Valkyrie  is  really  a  gift,  and  that,  at  the  widest  possible 
estimate  of  salvage  cost,  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany  has  purchased,  for  two  hundred  thousand  dollars,  a 
f  our-hundred-and-fif  ty-thousand-dollar  ship  —  thanks  to 
you! 

"With  kindest  regards,  and  again  assuring  you  of  the 
pleasure  I  have  always  taken  in  our  friendship — a  friend 
ship  which,  I  trust,  nothing  will  ever  disrupt — I  am 
"Cordially  and  sincerely  " 

Cappy  paused  and  gazed  at  the  stenographer  ap- 
praisingly. 

"Read  that  over  again,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he 
commanded. 

The  girl  complied  and  Cappy  nodded  his  satisfac 
tion. 

"You  and  Mr.  Skinner  get  along  all  right?"  he 
queried. 

"Oh,  yes,  sir." 

"I'm  very  glad  to  hear  that.  You've  been  substitut 
ing  for  Miss  Keenan,  haven't  you?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,  you  can  have  the  job  for  keeps  if  you  want 
it.     You  suit  me.     Take  letter:  'Miss  M.  Keenan-— 
I  called  her  Matilda,  but  her  name's  Mary;  so  let  it 
go  at  that. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  277 

"My  dear  Miss  Keenan:  Captain  Murphy  arrived  on 
the  Timaru,  with  the  information  that  he  had  taken  a 
chance  and  left  our  affairs  in  the  laps  of  the  gods  and 
the  capable  hands  of  his  understudy.  It  has  been  pretty 
tough  sledding  waiting  for  the  next  Australian  steamer, 
but,  thank  God !  she  made  port  yesterday  and  your  report 
of  the  success  of  your  mission  is  before  me.  I  thank  you. 
You're  a  good  girl,  and  I  am  very  happy  to  learn  of  your 
engagement  to  Captain  Murphy.  He  is  a  splendid  fellow 
and  I  am  sending  him  back  to  Papeete  in  command  of 
our  Amelia  Ricks,  which  has  been  fitted  up  as  a  wrecker, 
to  raise  the  Valkyrie.  You  had  better  wait  in  Papeete 
and  marry  him  there,  as  I  am  opposed  to  long  engagements 
among  my  employees;  and  Michael  will  do  better  and 
faster  work  if  he  settles  all  his  personal  worries  before 
tackling  those  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company. 

"On  his  return  with  the  Valkyrie  I  shall  make  him  port 
captain  of  the  Blue  Star  Fleet,  which  job  will  keep  him 
home  nights.  And  since,  by  his  ingenuity,  he  succeeded 
in  purchasing  for  twenty-two  thousand  five  hundred  dollars 
a  piece  of  property  for  which  I  was  prepared  to  pay  as 
high  as  seventy-five  thousand  dollars,  for  your  wedding 
present  I  shall  allot  you  and  Captain  Murphy  a  ten- 
thousand-dollar  piece  of  the  Valkyrie.  It  should  earn  you 
thirty  per  cent  and  make  you  independent  in  your  old  age. 

"Very  sincerely " 

Cappy  Ricks  ceased  dictating  and  clawed  his  whis 
kers  reflectively. 

"Yes,"  he  murmured  irrelevantly;  "I  guess  that's 
considerable  of  a  knock-out  from  an  old  fogy  who's 
lost  his  punch!" 

Then,  to  the  stenographer: 

"That  will  be  all,  my  dear.  As  you  pass  through 
the  general  office  tell  those  fellows  out  there  that  I've 


278 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


gone  into  executive  session  with  myself  and  am  not  to 
be  disturbed  unless  it's  something  very  important.  I've 
got  to  decide  which  one  of  our  skippers  to  promot< 
into  the  Valkyrie  when  we  get  her  up  and  I  must  think 
up  a  new  name  for  her.  I  think  I'll  call  her  the  J.  H. 
Skinner.  Skinner's  a  little  slow  on  his  feet,  but  h( 
means  well  and  he's  old  enough  to  have  a  ship  name 
after  him." 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

THE  practical  theft  from  the  West  Coast  Trading 
Company  of  the  German  steamer  Valkyrie,  had, 
to  Cappy's  mind,  atoned  for  the  loss  and  humiliation 
he  had  suffered  in  that  grape  stake  deal.  His  honor 
was  clean  again  and  for  weeks  he  taunted  Redell  with 
the  latter's  inefficiency,  insufficiency  and  general  busi 
ness  debility,  until,  having  extracted  the  last  shred  of 
triumph  from  the  affair,  a  vague  sympathy  for  Redell 
commenced  to  surge  up  in  Cappy's  kindly  heart  and 
he  commenced  casting  about  for  an  opportunity  to  do 
the  former  a  favor. 

Redell  had  enjoyed  his  beating,  for  he  ,was,  indeed, 
a  rare  sport.  However,  he  would  have  to  retaliate. 
The  feud  must  go  on.  Unless  he  could  mix  a  modicum 
of  fun  with  his  profits,  J.  Augustus  would  not  have 
regarded  the  fight  worth  while,  so  accordingly  he  kept 
his  eyes  and  his  ears  open  for  a  handy  weapon  with 
which  to  jab  Cappy  through  that  same  old  rift  in  his 
armor — his  passion  for  a  large  profit  through  an 
adroit  and  ingenious  deal  in  a  commodity  where  even  a 
very  modest  profit  was  not  discernible  to  ordinary 
mortals. 

Finally  Redell  found  the  opportunity  he  sought. 
He  was  so  proud  of  his  formula  that  he  could  not 
forbear  remarking  casually  to  Live  Wire  Luiz  one 
bright  day  that,  granted  good  health  and  the  approval 

279 


280  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

of  Providence  for  one  week,  he  would  knock  Gappy 
Ricks  for  a  goal.  And  he  narrated  his  scheme. 

"Friend  of  my  heart!"  the  little  Peruvian  cried  ex 
citedly,  and  held  out  his  arms  to  Redell,  inviting  a 
fraternal  embrace.  "I  love  you!  Damn  eet!  I  say 
eet!  You  are  one  wezard  weeth  the  money-making 
schemes !" 

Mr.  Redell  cautiously  compromised  on  a  hearty 
handshake;  to  avoid  a  kiss  he  was  careful  to  keep  the 
table  between  himself  and  Live  Wire  Luiz. 

"Shall  we  empty  the  corporate  sock  and  climb 
aboard  for  every  cent  we  can  beg,  borrow  or  steal?" 
he  demanded. 

"Sure,  I  bet  you !"  Live  Wire  Luiz  cried ;  for,  though 
a  featherweight  physically,  he  was  possessed  of  the 
courage  of  an  Alexander. 

J.  Augustus  Redell  put  on  his  hat,  took  from  a 
pigeonhole  in  his  desk  the  last  trial  balance  of  the 
West  Coast  Trading  Company's  books  and  departed 
for  a  conference  with  his  banker.  Half  an  hour  later 
he  returned,  and  the  expectant  Luiz  promptly  noted 
a  cloud  on  Mr.  Redell's  sunny  countenance. 

"I  can't  arrange  for  a  loan,"  he  reported  disgust 
edly.  "The  limit,  in  view  of  our  present  obligations, 
has  been  reached." 

"On  the  margin  of  ten  cents,"  suggested  Live  Wire 
Luiz,  "take  a  chance,  amigo.  Thees  is  not  speculation. 
It  ees  what  you  call  the  ceench  weeth  the  copper 
reevets." 

"I  figure  it  that  way;  nevertheless,  copper-riveted 
cinches  sometimes  aren't  properly  cinched^  and  Fortune 
backs  out  of  the  packsaddle.  I  dare  not  take  a  long 
chance  on  this,  Luiz.  If  something  went  wrong  we'd 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

be  sadly  embarrassed.  We  dare  not  take  a  chance  up 
to  the  limit  of  what  money  we  have  on  hand,  because 
we  need  those  funds  for  other  things." 

Live  "Wire  Luiz  swore  mournfully  in  Spanish.  Redell 
nodded  and  retired  to  his  own  office,  where  for  an  hour 
he  sat  with  his  head  in  his  hands,  searching  his  agile 
brain  for  a  bright  idea  that  would  lead  him  out  of  his 
dilemma.  Suddenly  he  leaped  to  his  feet,  tossed  his 
hat  to  the  ceiling  and  caught  it  again  as  it  came  down. 

"Gappy  Ricks  is  my  meat,"  he  declared  aloud.  "Be 
sides,  I  owe  Cappy  one  for  making  a  monkey  out  of 
me  on  that  last  deal.  He  hoisted  me  on  my  own  petard. 
Now  I'll  hoist  him,  and  incidentally  annex  a  profit  for 
the  West  Coast  Trading  Company." 

He  rushed  out  into  California  Street  and  for  the 
major  portion  of  the  day  was  very  busy  among  various 
shipping  offices.  When  he  returned,  late  in  the  after 
noon,  to  the  offices  of  the  West  Coast  Trading  Com 
pany,  his  alert  young  face  wore  a  pleased  and  confident 
smile.  Live  Wire  Luiz  noted  this  and  took  heart  of 
hope. 


CHAPTER   XL 

Cappy  Ricks  was,  for  the  thousandth  time  since  his 
voluntary  retirement  from  active  business  some  ten 
years  previous,  overwhelmed  with  his  ancient  re 
sponsibilities.  Mr.  Skinner  had,  under  the  insistent 
prodding  of  his  wife,  consented  grudgingly  to  a  vaca 
tion  and  had  gone  up  into  the  Sierras  to  loaf  and  fish. 

Scarcely  had  Skinner  departed  when  one  of  the  Blue 
Star  steamers  ran  ashore  on  the  Southern  California 
coast,  and  Captain  Matt  Peasley  left  immediately  for 
the  scene  of  the  disaster  to  superintend  the  work  of 
floating  the  stranded  vessel.  This  left  Cappy  riding 
herd  on  the  destinies  of  the  Blue  Star  ships,  with  Mr. 
Hankins,  Skinner's  understudy,  looking  after  the  lum 
ber. 

Prior  to  boarding  the  train,  Matt  Peasley  had  ven 
tured  the  suggestion  that  Mr.  Skinner  be  ordered 
wire  to  return  to  town  at  once;  but  this  veiled  hii 
that  the  Blue  Star  ships  could  not  be  managed  by  tl 
man  who  had  built  up  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Coi 
pany  had  been  received  very  coldly  by  the  president 
emeritus  of  the  Ricks  interests. 

"Young  feller,"  Cappy  informed  his  son-in-la\ 
testily,  "I'll  have  you  know  I  was  managing  the  Blu( 
Star  Navigation  Company  quite  some  years  before  y< 
quit  wearing  pinafores ;  so  I  guess,  while  you  ai 
Skinner  are  away  from  the  office,  we  can  manage 
stagger  along  after  a  fashion." 

282 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"But  I  don't  like  to  have  you  worried  with  business 
after  you've  retired " 

"Retired!"  Gappy  hooted.  "Swell  chance  I've  got 
to  retire!  I'll  die  in  the  harness  whether  I  want  to 
or  not.  Tut,  tut,  my  boy!  Don't  be  afraid  to  put 
me  in  as  a  pinch  hitter  for  this  organization.  The 
worst  I  can  do  is  to  single — and  I  might  clout  a  home 
run." 

"But  Skinner  has  been  away  two  weeks " 

"Enough !  It  would  be  a  bad  thing  to  obsess  Skinner 
with  the  notion  that  we  can't  get  along  without  him. 
Then  he  never  would  take  a  rest ;  and  I  don't  want  any 
martyrs  or  neurasthenics  round  my  office.  You  got 
anything  on  the  fire  that's  liable  to  burn  or  boil  over 
before  you  get  back?" 

"Nothing  to  worry  about,  Gappy,"  Matt  answered. 
"Our  five-masted  schooner  Mindoro  is  the  only  vessel 
requiring  immediate  attention.  She  arrived  at  Sydney 
yesterday  with  lumber  from  Gray's  Harbor,  and  as  yet 
I  haven't  been  able  to  get  a  satisfactory  return  cargo 
for  her."  * 

"What  have  you  been  holding  out  for?" 

"I  want  to  get  a  cargo  for  delivery  in  San  Francisco 
if  possible.  The  vessel  will  be  ready  to  go  on  dry  dock 
by  the  time  she  gets  back  here;  and  besides,  I'm 
planning  to  put  a  semi-Diesel-type  engine  in  her." 

'"Not  by  a  jugful !  She  wasn't  built  with  a  shaft  log, 
and  I  won't  have  you  weakening  my  Mindoro  by  cut 
ting  away  her  deadwood " 

"Tish!  Tush!  You're  a  back  number,  Gappy. 
They  don't  cut  through  the  deadwood  any  more.  They 
run  the  shaft  out  over  her  quarter  and  hang  it  on 
struts." 


284 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


"She'll  carry  a  helm " 

"She'll  not ;  but  if  she  does,  let  her.     It'll  give  t] 
helmsman  something  to  do." 

Cappy  subsided,  fearful  that  if  he  persisted  he  migl 
be  given  new  evidence  of  the  fact  that  times 
changed  a  trifle,  here  and  there,  since  he  had — oj 
tensibly — gone  on  the  retired  list. 

"Well,  I'll  take  care  of  the  Mindoro,"  he  assured  his 
son-in-law.     "Early  in  life  I  adopted  the  woodpecfo 
as  my  patron  saint.    Ever  since,  whenever  I  want 
thing  I  keep  pecking  away,  and  pretty  soon  I  bi 
through  somewhere." 

The  following  morning,  bursting  with  a  sense  ol 
responsibility,  Cappy  came  bustling  down  to  the  offic 
and  got  on  the  job  at  eight-thirty.  After  lookii 
through  the  mail  he  called  up  all  the  freight  brokers  ii 
town  and  urged  them  to  make  a  special  effort  to  line 
up  a  San  Francisco  cargo  for  the  Mindoro;  then  h< 
summoned  Mr.  Skinner's  stenographer  and  was  busy 
dictating  when  Mr.  J.  Augustus  Redell  was  announced 
by  a  youth  from  the  general  office.  Cappy  went 
the  door  to  welcome  his  beloved  young  friend  and  busi 
ness  enemy. 

"Come  in,  Gus,  my  dear  boy,"  he  chirped,  "and  resl 
your  face  and  hands."  He  turned  to  the  stenographei 
"That  will  be  all,  my  dear,  for  the  present.  I  can'4 
dictate  business  secrets  in  the  presence  of  this- 
ahem — harumph-h-h ! — er " 

His   desk  telephone   rang.      Cappy  took   down  tl 
receiver  and  grunted. 

"J.  O.  Heyfuss  &  Co.  are  calling  you,  Mr.  Ricks,' 
his  private  exchange  operator  announced. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  285 

Cappy  smiled  and  nodded.  J.  O.  Heyfuss  &  Co.  were 
ship,  freight  and  marine  insurance  brokers. 

"Something  doing  for  my  Mindoro"  he  soliloquized 
aloud. 

"Mr.  Ricks  ?"  a  voice  came  over  the  wire. 

"Hello  there !"  Cappy  replied  at  the  top  of  his  voice. 
For  some  reason  he  always  shouted  when  telephoning. 
"Ricks  on  the  job!  What j a  got  for  my  Mindoro » 
Heyfuss?  .  .  .  Zinc  ore?  Never  carried  any  before. 
Don't  know  what  it  looks  like.  .  .  .  Yes ;  that  freight 
rate  is  acceptable.  We  should  have  more,  but  God 
forbid  that  we  should  be  considered  human  hogs  .  .  » 
Yes.  .  .  .  Sure  it's  for  discharge  in  San  Francisco? 
...  All  right.  Close  for  it.  ...  Good-bye !  .  .  .  Hey 
there,  Heyfuss!  Don't  close  in  a  hurry.  See  if  you 
can't  get  the  charterers  to  pay  the  towage  over  to  her 
loading  port.  If  they  won't  pay  all,  strike  'em  for 
half." 

He  hung  up  without  saying  good-bye. 

"Well,  that's  out  of  the  way,"  he  declared  with  satis 
faction.  "Just  closed  for  a  cargo  of  zinc  ore  from 
Australia  to  San  Francisco  ex  our  schooner  Mindoro. 
Matt  Peasley's  been  hunting  wild-eyed  for  a  cargo  for 
her — scouring  the  market,  Gus — and  nothing  doing  I 
And  here  the  old  master  comes  along  and  digs  up  a 
cargo  while  you'd  be  saying  Jack  Robinson.  By  the 
Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  if  you  can  show  me  how  the 
rising  generation  is  going  to  get  by " 

He  paused  suddenly,  leaned  forward,  and  pointed  an 
accusing  finger  at  his  visitor. 

"Gus,"  he  charged,  "you're  up  to  something.  I  can 
see  it  in  your  eyes.  You  look  guilty." 

Mr.  Redell  hitched  his  chair  close  to  Cappy  and  with 


286  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

his  index  finger  tapped  the  old  gentleman  three  times  on 
the  right  knee — three  impressive  taps. 

"Alden  P.  Ricks,"  he  began  with  equal  impressiveness, 
"I  have  a  scheme " 

Gappy  chuckled  and  slapped  his  thin  old  thigh. 

"I  knew  it !  By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet !  Gus, 
if  you  ever  come  into  my  office  and  fail  to  unload  a 
scheme  on  me  I'll  think  you  aren't  enjoying  your  usual 
robust  health.  What  are  you  going  to  start  now?  A 
skunk  farm  for  cornering  the  market  on  Russian  sable?" 

"Cut  out  the  hilarity.  This  is  serious  business, 
Cappy.  I  can  show  you  where  you  and  I  can  waltz  into 
the  Chicago  Pit,  make  a  killing  on  December  wheat,  and 
escape  with  a  sizable  wad  before  our  identity  is  dis 
covered." 

Cappy,  caught  off  his  guard,  blinked  at  the  enormity 
of  the  prospect ;  but,  remembering  his  dignity  as  a  busi 
ness  man,  he  shook  his  head  sadly  and  replied : 

"Wheat !  Wheat,  eh  ?  A  lumber  and  shipping  man 
monkeying  with  wheat?  Not  for  little  old  Alden  P. 
Ricks  !  No,  sir !  When  I  go  speculating  I  stick  to  my 
specialties — lumber  and  ships.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
a  gambler,  winning  a  fortune  at  faro,  who  didn't  drop 
his  winnings  on  the  ponies?" 

"But  this  is  a  beautiful  layout." 

"I  don't  know  anything  about  wheat  and  I'm  too  old 
to  learn.  Besides,  I  don't  trust  you,  Gus.  You're  an 
infernal  scoundrel;  and  experience  has  taught  me  that 
any  time  I  take  your  tip  and  go  in  on  a  deal  I  have 
to  step  lively  to  keep  from  being  walked  on." 

"But  this  time  I'm  free  from  guile.  I  won't  stab  you, 
Cappy." 

"No  use!    The  last  boat  just  left,  Augustus." 


He  always  shouted  when  telephoning. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  287 

Mr.  Redell,  however,  was  made  of  rather  stern  stuff. 
!He  was  a  young  man  who  never  took  "No"  for  an 
answer.  Persistence  was  his  most  striking  character- 
iistic. 

"Now  listen,"  he  implored.  "Let  the  dead  past  bury 
itself.  I  give  you  my  word  of  honor,  Cappy,  that  this 
deal  is  on  the  level.  Just  let  me  put  all  my  cards  on 
the  table  while  you  take  a  look ;  then,  if  you  don't  want 
rto  come  in,  all  I  ask  is  your  word  of  honor  that  you'll 
ustay  out  while  I  round  up  a  partner  with  red  blood  in 
his  veins." 

Cappy  pricked  up  his  ears  at  that.  He  saw  that 
Redell  was  serious ;  he  knew  that  once  the  latter  passed 
his  word  of  honor  he  never  broke  it.  Still,  Cappy 
did  not  wish  to  appear  precipitate  in  his  surrender; 
>so  he  said  weakly : 

"I  am  against  speculation." 

"You  mean  you're  against  foolish  speculation," 
Redell  corrected  him.  "I  take  it,  however,  that  you 
have  no  objection  to  playing  a  sure  thing." 

"Well,"  Cappy  admitted,  "in  that  event  I  might 
be  persuaded.  Nevertheless,  I'm  afraid  of  you.  There's 
a  fly  in  the  ointment,  even  if  I  cannot  see  it.  You  owe 
me  a  poke,  and  you'll  never  rest  until  you've  squared 
the  account  between  us." 

Mr.  Redell  held  up  his  hands  in  abject  distress. 

"Cappy,"  he  pleaded,  "don't  say  that.  You  wrong 
me  cruelly.  It  is  in  my  power  to  stand  idly  by  and 
let  you  assimilate  a  poke  right  now;  but,  just  to  show 
you  I  haven't  any  hard  feelings,  I'll  do  something  nice 
for  you  instead." 

"What  do  you  mean — nice?" 


288  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"I'll  save  you  money — not  only  today  but  for  years 
to  come;  and  I'll  save  your  self-respect." 

"Shoot !" 

"Call  up  J.  O.  Heyfuss  &  Co.  and  tell  them  to  take 
their  cargo  of  zinc  ore  in  bulk  for  your  schooner 
Mindore  and  g©  to  the  devil  with  it !" 

"But,  good  gracious,  boy,  I  have  to  get  something 
for  her  homeward  trip !" 

"In  this  case  nothing  is  better  than  something.  Do 
you  know  anything  about  zinc  ore?" 

"Yes;  as  much  as  an  Eskimo  knows  about  the  doc 
trine  of  transubstantiation." 

"I  thought  so.  Well,  I'll  enlighten  you.  Zinc  ore 
is  blamed  near  as  heavy  as  lead,  and  it's  as  fine  as 
cement.  Load  it  in  a  ship  in  bulk  and,  what  with  the 
pitching  and  rolling  of  a  vessel  on  a  long  voyage,  she 
opens  up  every  seam  and  crack  in  her  interior;  then 
this  powdered  ore  sifts  into  the  skin  of  the  ship  and 
down  into  her  bilge,  and  you'll  never  be  able  to  get 
it  out  without  tearing  the  ship  apart.  Why,  after  a 
vessel  has  freighted  a  cargo  of  zinc  ore  there  may  be  as 
much  as  fifty  tons  left  in  her  after  she's  supposed  to 
be  discharged;  and,  of  course,  thereafter  she'll  carry 
that  much  less  cargo  than  she  did  before.  Besides, 
the  consignees  are  liable  to  send  you  a  bill  for  the 
shortage;  you  can  gamble  your  head  they'll  deduct  it 
from  the  freight  bill." 

"Holy  sailor!"  Cappy  was  appalled. 

"Why,"  Redell  continued,   "I'm  surprised  at  yoi 
ignorance,  Cappy!" 

"And  I'm  amazed  at  your  intelligence!     Where  di< 
you   get   all   this   zinc-ore  dope?"    Cappy   challen^ 
"How  do  you  know  it's  true?" 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  289 

"I  got  it  from  Captain  Matt  Peasley.  I  heard  him 
give  it  to  J.  O.  Heyfuss  on  the  floor  of  the  Merchants' 
Exchange  two  weeks  ago,  when  Heyfuss  tried  to  sneak 
up  on  his  blind  side  and  hang  that  cargo  of  zinc  -ore 
on  him.  I  guess  they  weren't  importing  much  zinc 
ore  when  you  were  active  in  business,  Gappy,  or  you'd 
have  known  all  about  it.  You  see  the  plot,  don't 
you?  As  soon  as  Heyfuss  learned  that  Matt  Peasley 
and  Skinner  had  gone  away,  leaving  a  defenseless  old 
man  on  the  job,  he  organized  himself  to  spear  you." 

"The  shameless  son  of  a  sea  cook!  By  gravy,  Gus, 
you're  my  friend !" 

"Need  any  more  proof?" 

"Not  a  speck." 

"Then  I'll  give  you  some.  Call  up  Heyfuss  and  de 
clare  that  ore  cargo  off;  after  you've  done  that  I'll 
tell  you  where  you  can  get  something  better.  More 
over,  you  can  close  the  deal  yourself  and  save  the 
brokerage." 


CHAPTER   XLI 

Cappy  Ricks  called  up  J.  O.  Heyfuss  and  in  a  few 
terse  sentences  told  that  individual  where  to  head  in. 

"Now,  then "  he  began,  facing  round  on  Redell 

once  more. 

Again  RedelPs  index  finger  tapped  Cappy's  knee. 
Dramatically  he  pronounced  a  single  word: 

"Wheat !" 

"Wheat  ?" 

"Wheat!" 

"What  kind  of  wheat?"  In  his  amazement  Cappy 
was  rather  helpless. 

"Number  One  white  Australian  wheat." 

"You  jibbering  jackdaw!  Wheat?  Don't  you  know 
blamed  well  that  wheat  is  one  of  the  commodities 
Australia  never  exports  to  these  United  States?  Why? 
Because  we  don't  need  her  doggoned  wheat !  We  grow 
all  the  wheat  we  need  and  a  lot  more  we  don't  need ;  we 
export  that,  and  it's  just  as  fine  wheat  as  you'll  find 
anywhere.  Moreover,  any  time  our  crop  is  a  failure, 
our  next-door  neighbor,  Canada,  is  Johnny-on-the- 
spot,  ready  to  make  prompt  delivery.  So  what  in 
thunder  are  you  talking  about?" 

For  answer  J.  Augustus  Redell  drew  from  his  pocket 
that  morning's  paper  and  pointed  to  the  headline  of  a 
front-page  story.  Cappy  adjusted  his  spectacles  and 
read:  Bakers  Announce  Six-Cent  Loaf! 

"Hum-m-m!"  said  Cappj, 
290 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  291 

"You  bet !  And  it's  a  smaller  loaf,  by  the  way. 
Doesn't  that  argue  that  there  is  something  doing  in 
wheat,  when  the  price  of  bread  goes  to  six  cents  for  a 
half  portion  ?" 

"Well,  there  might  be  something  in  that,  Gus.  Crack 
along  and  tell  me  some  more." 

"Until  the  identity  of  the  real  culprits  is  fixed, 
Cappy,  we  must  blame  the  war  in  Europe  for  the  six- 
cent  loaf;  likewise  for  the  fifteen-dollar  shoe  that  for 
merly  cost  our  wives  six  or  seven ;  for  the  eleven  pounds 
of  sugar  for  a  dollar,  when  twenty  to  twenty-two 
pounds  was  the  standard  in  the  good  old  days.  Europe 
is  too  busy  fighting  to  pay  much  attention  to  farming; 
the  wheat  farmers  of  Canada  are  somewhere  in  France 
instead  of  being  at  home  'tending  to  business ;  and  it 
has  been  up  to  Uncle  Sam  and  the  Argentine  Republic 
to  feed  the  world,  you  might  say.  Naturally  speculat 
ors  have  seized  upon  this  condition  to  shoot  the  price 
of  wheat  to  the  skies,  and  in  desperation  the  millers  have 
been  casting  about  to  buy  cheaper  wheat.  Investiga 
tion  discloses  the  fact  that  Australia  has  an  enormous 
quantity  of  wheat  on  hand;  some  of  it  is  the  surplus 
of  the  1915  crop.  Of  course  she  has  exported  all  she 
could  to  England;  but,  at  that,  she  has  been  handi 
capped." 

"How?" 

"Because  when  a  ship  sails  from  Liverpool  with 
goods  for  Australia,  it  is  a  rare  case  when  that  same 
ship  promptly  loads  with  Australian  goods  and  puts 
back  to  Liverpool.  She  takes  a  cargo  of  coal,  say, 
from  Newcastle  up  to  Manila;  a  general  cargo  from 
Manila  to  Seattle  or  San  Francisco ;  thence  to  a  West 
Coast  port  with  a  general  cargo ;  thence  to  New  York 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

• 

with  nitrate ;  thence  to  Europe  with  foodstuffs  or  muni 
tions.  Australia  hasn't  had  the  tonnage  to  export 
her  wheat  and  it's  been  piling  up  on  her.  Now  they've 
simply  got  to  sell  something  to  get  some  ready  money." 

"This  is  perfectly  re-markable !" 

Redell  took  a  document  from  his  pocket  and  gravely 
handed  it  to  Gappy,  who  examined  it  and  discovered  the 
same  to  be  a  charter  party,  consummated  the  day  be 
fore  between  the  West  Coast  Trading  Company,  owners 
of  the  barkentine  Mazeppa,  and  Messrs.  Ford  &  Carter, 
a  well  known  export  and  import  firm  whose  principal 
business  was  done  in  grain.  Cappy  read  the  charter 
party  carefully  and  even  verified  the  signatures,  with 
which  he  was  familiar.  The  vessel  was  to  carry  a 
cargo  of  wheat  from  Melbourne  to  San  Francisco  at  a 
freight  rate  that  fairly  shrieked  the  word  "Dividend." 

"Re-markable !"  Cappy  declared.    "Preposterous  !" 

"Seeing  is  believing.  Call  up  Ford  &  Carter,  and 
they'll  jump  over  themselves  to  give  you  a  cargo 
of  wheat  for  your  Mmdoro." 

"Im-possible!" 

"Well,  I'm  telling  you.  Why,  it  stands  to  reason, 
Cappy!  Canada  and  the  United  States  are  so  much 
nearer  Europe  than  is  Australia  that  it  has  been 
cheaper  to  use  our  wheat,  and  the  result  is  we've  been 
cleaned  out ;  and  the  newspapers  are  filled  with  dismal 
stories  of  the  sufferings  of  the  poor  due  to  the  increased 
price  of  bread." 

"Come  to  think  of  it,  Gus,  there  Jias  been  a  lot  of 
that  stuff  in  the  papers  lately.  But,  of  course,  when 
a  fellow's  stomach  is  full  and  he  isn't  in  danger  of 
being  attached  for  debt,  he  never  thinks  of  the  less 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  293 

fortunate  brother.  Yes,  Gus,  I  dare  say  the  demand 
for  our  wheat  now  exceeds  the  visible  supply." 

"Is  it  any  wonder,  then,  that  this  condition  of  affairs 
should  come  to  the  attention  of  the  Australian  ex 
porters  ?  Just  because  Australian  wheat  has  never  been 
shipped  into  the  United  States  is  no  reason  why  it 
shouldn't  be  shipped — particularly  when  the  price  of 
flour  goes  up  daily.  Why,  we  pay  two  and  a  half 
dollars  for  the  fifty-pound  sack  of  flour  that  formerly 
cost  us  a  dollar  and  a  quarter !  Eggs  are  up  to  seventy 
cents  a  dozen — by  jingo,  Gappy,  what's  going  to  be 
come  of  us?" 

"God  knows !"  Gappy  answered  dismally. 

Redell  had  him  hypnotized.  Already  Gappy  could 
see  the  gates  of  the  poorhouse  opening  to  receive  them 
all.  Redell's  voice  brought  him  back  to  a  realization 
of  his  peril. 

"You'll  find,  Gappy  Ricks,  that  for  months  to  come 
every  sailing  vessel  that  carries  lumber  to  Australia 
from  the  Pacific  Coast  will  come  back  with  a  cargo 
of  wheat  while  these  war  prices  are  maintained." 

"Great  Jumping  Jehoshaphat !  How'd  you  get  next 
to  all  this,  Gus?" 

"The  early  bird  gets  the  worm,  and  success  comes 
to  the  man  who  creates  his  own  opportunities.  I 
thought  it  all  up  out  of  my  own  head,  Gappy,  and  then 
tried  it  out  on  Ford  &  Carter.  It  knocked  'em  cold  for 
a  minute;  but  that  was  only  because  the  proposition 
was  so  unusual.  When  I  explained  the  situation  to 
them,  however,  and  gave  them  time  to  digest  it,  both 
offered  to  take  me  out  to  luncheon.  You  can  see  for 
yourself  they've  chartered  our  Mazeppa  at  a  fancy 
freight  rate." 


294  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Cappy  licked  his  lips. 

"The  Mindoro  is  sound,  tight  and  seaworthy," 
murmured.  "She  could  carry  wheat." 

"Come  on  in,  Cappy.    The  water's  fine !" 

"I'll  do  it!  Gus,  you're  a  mighty  good  fellow,  if 
do  say  it  that  shouldn't.  I  have  five  windjammers 
route  to  Australia  this  minute,  and,  by  the  Holy 
Toed  Prophet,  if  I  can  get  wheat  charters  for  all 
them  on  the  return  trip  I'll  accept,  if  it  costs  me  mone] 
Gus,  something  has  got  to  be  done  about  this  high  cos 
of  living  or  we'll  all  go  to  hell  together.  There  come 
a  time  in  a  man's  life  when  he  must  put  aside 
sordid  question  of  'How  much  is  there  in  it  for  mei 
and  ask  himself:  'How  much  can  I  put  in  it  for 
other  fellow?'  Gus,  it's  our  Christian  duty  to  furnij 
tonnage  to  import  this  wheat.  We  should,  as  patriot] 
citizens,  make  it  our  business  to  boom  Australian  whc 
in  the  United  States  and  give  these  doggoned  piral 
that  gamble  in  the  foodstuffs  of  the  country  a  run  f< 
their  money.  Food  prices  should  be  regulated  by  tl 
Government.  The  Chicago  Pit  should  be  abolished 
legislative  enactment " 

"Well,  they  won't  do  it  this  year,  Cappy,"  Red* 
interrupted  dryly.    "Still,  it  occurred  to  me  that  I  sai 
an  opening  where  two  high-minded  philanthropists- 
to  wit,  Alden  P.  Ricks  and  J.  Augustus  Redell — 
strike  a  blow  for  freedom  and  at  the  same  time  gii 
these  wheat  speculators  a  kick  where  it  will  do  the 
the  most  good.    When  one  cannot  annihilate  his  enem] 
the  next  best  thing  is  to  take  some  money  away  from 
him;  and  you  and  I,  Cappy  Ricks,  can  take  a  young 
fortune  away  from  these  fellows,  while  at  the  same  time 
depressing  the  price  of  wheat   and  doing  our  fellow 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  295 

countrymen  a  favor.  Are  you  prepared  to  volunteer 
under  my  banner?  If  so,  hold  up  your  right  hand." 

Cappy  held  up  his  right  hand. 

"Out  with  it,  Gus,"  he  ordered ;  "out  with  it !  This 
is  most  interesting." 

"Ah!  You're  interested  now,  are  you?  Well,  bear 
ing  in  mind  the  fact  that  your  specialty  is  lumber  and 
ships,  I  will  give  you  an  opportunity  to  withdraw  be 
fore  it  is  too  late.  Besides,  it  occurs  to  me  that  I 
have  already  done  enough  for  you  today." 

"Don't  be  greedy,  Gus.  Remember  there  is  an  excep 
tion  to  every  rule.  Besides,  I'm  getting  old  and — er — 
ahem ! — hell's  bells,  boy,  I've  got  to  have  my  fling  every 
once  in  a  while.  Come  now,  Gus !  Out  with  it !  I 
believe  your  proposition  embodied  the  coupling  of 
both  our  names  in  the  betting,  did  it  not  ?" 

"It  did,  Cappy.  Still,  come  to  think  of  it,  I  really 
ought  not  to  come  in  here  and  tempt  you  into  speculat 
ing " 

"How  much  money  do  you  want?"  Cappy  shrilled  im 
patiently.  "Cut  out  this  infernal  drivel  and  get  down 
to  business.  Unfold  your  proposition;  and  if  it  looks 
to  me  like  a  winner  I'll  take  a  flyer  with  you  if  it's  the 
last  act  of  my  sinful  life." 

"On  your  own  head  be  it,  Cappy.  Here  goes !  How 
ever,  before  laying  my  plan  before  you,  perfect  frank 
ness  compels  me  to  state  that  my  visit  to  you  was  not 
born  of  an  overweening  desire  to  do  you  a  kindness  or 
make  money  for  you.  Philanthropy  is  not  my  long  suit 
— in  business  hours ;  and  my  interest  in  you  today  is 
purely  a  selfish  one." 

"Go  on ;  go  on,  boy !    Am  I  a  child  in  arms  ?" 

"I  have  made  a  ball,  Cappy,"  Redell  continued,  "and 


296  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

I  want  you  to  fire  it.  I  have  a  splendid  prescription  to 
make  a  clean-up  in  December  wheat " 

"Give  me  your  prescription." 

"Well,  sir,  my  prescription  lacks  one  small  ingredient 
to  make  it  a  standard  household  remedy.  You  can 
supply  that  ingredient — to  wit,  cash  of  the  present 
standard  of  weight  and  fineness.  Every  spare  dollar 
that  Live  Wire  Luiz  and  I  can  get  our  hands  on  is 
working  overtime  in  the  legitimate  business  of  the  West 
Coast  Trading  Company;  every  loose  asset  with  a 
hockable  value  has  been  hocked,  and  we  dare  not  strain 
our  credit  with  our  banker  by  borrowing  money  with 
which  to  speculate.  If  I  apply  for  a  sizable  loan, 
without  putting  up  collateral,  he'll  ask  me  what  I  want 
to  do  with  the  money — and  if  I  answer  truthfully  he'll 
throw  Luiz  and  me  and  our  account  out  of  his  bank. 
And  I  never  was  a  very  successful  liar.  Therefore,  in 
consideration  of  the  valuable  information  I  can  furnish, 
I  suggest  that  you  carry  me  for  a  quarter  of  a  million 
bushels  of  December  wheat." 

"How  much  will  that  cost  me?"  Cappy  queried  warily. 

"We'll  operate  on  margin.  I  think  a  margin  of  ten 
cents  a  bushel  will  do  the  trick;  of  course,  if  wheat 
should  go  up  a  point  you'll  be  asked  to  come  through 
with  more  money.  However,  I  have  a  sneaking  notion 
that  a  well-known  heavyweight  like  you  can  place  his 
order  with  any  of  the  local  brokers  without  having  to 
put  up  a  single  cent ;  at  the  most  they  might  ask  you 
for  five  thousand  or  ten  thousand  dollars.  But  they 
know  you're  good  for  any  engagement  you  may  make; 
they'd  be  tickled  to  death  to  have  your  promissory  note. 
I  suggest  that  you  get  in  touch  with  a  sound  brokerage 
house  in  this  city — one  that  is  a  member  of  the  New 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  297 

York  Exchange  and  the  Chicago  Board  of  Trade — and 
sell,  for  my  account,  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
Dushels  of  December  wheat  at  the  market." 

"What'll  I  do  for  myself?" 

"Go  as  far  as  you  like.  You  know  your  own  limita 
tions.  I'm  desirous  of  selling  a  quarter  of  a  million 
bushels  at  the  market;  and,  as  I  am  furnishing  the 
plans  and  specifications  for  this  raid,  I  suggest  that 
you  sell  at  least  a  quarter  of  a  million  yourself." 

"Funny  business !"  Cappy  murmured.  "Selling  a 
juarter  of  a  million  bushels  of  wheat  you  do  not  own 
ind  never  will!  Hum-m-m!  Ahem!  Harumph-h-h! 
Then  what?" 

He  bent  his  head  and  gazed  very  severely  at  Mr. 
lledell  over  the  rims  of  his  spectacles.  For  reply  Mr. 
ledell  took  from  his  pocket  thirteen  sheaves  of  paper 
*nd  handed  them  to  Cappy,  who  investigated  and  dis- 
overed  them  to  be  thirteen  forty-eight-hour  options 
>n  thirteen  sailing  vessels  bound  to  Australian  ports 
dth  lumber,  and  not  as  yet  provided  with  a  return 
argo  to  the  United  States. 

"By  to-morrow  morning  I  shall  have  exercised  those 
ptions    and   closed   for   thirteen   cargoes    of  wheat," 
jledell   explained.      "You   have   five   vessels   bound   to 
Australia  also.     Give  me  an  option  on  them  for  their 
jeturn  cargo  and  that  will  make  eighteen." 
5  "Yes,  yes.     Then  what?" 
1  "I  will  charter  all  of  the  eighteen  to  Ford  &  Carter, 

ho  will  load  them  with  Number  One  white  Australian 
I  heat  for  Pacific  Coast  ports.  Before  doing  so,  how- 
j/er,  Ford  &  Carter  will  have  closed  contracts  with 
t.acific  Coast  milling  companies  for  the  sale  of  every 


298  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

grain  of  it,  in  order  to  protect  themselves  against  a 
falling  market." 

"Naturally.     And  the  market  is " 

"December  wheat  closed  in  the  Chicago  Pit  yesterday 
at  $1.89%,  and  the  market  has  been  very  stiff  for  quite 
a  while.  The  bulls  are  right  on  the  job." 

"Will  not  the  advent  of  all  this  Australian  wheat 
depress  the  market?"  Cappy  shrilled  excitedly. 

"Not  unless  the  bears  happen  to  find  it  out,  Cappy," 
Redell  retorted  gently.  "It  is  our  job  to  bring  the 
matter  to  their  attention,  for  it  so  happens  that  Alden 
P.  Ricks  and  J.  Augustus  Redell  are  the  only  two 
people  in  the  United  States  who  happen  to  know  about 
it.  Ford  &  Carter  know ;  but  they  are  very  conserva 
tive,  and  I  doubt  that  the  tremendous  possibilities  of 
this  information  have  occurred  to  them.  At  any  rate, 
we'll  probably  be  first  aboard  the  lugger." 

Cappy  nodded  sagely. 

"Are  you  sure,  Gus,  my  dear  young  friend,  that  we 
are  not  too  conservative  in  selling  but  a  quarter  of 
a  million  bushels  each?  There's  such  a  thing  as  play 
ing  'em  too  close  to  the  vest,  you  know." 

"We'll  try  selling  half  a  million  bushels  first;  if 
that  doesn't  depress  the  market  we'll  just  keep  on  selling 
until  something  happens.  That's  right,  isn't  it?" 

"I  think  so.  The  bulls  will  probably  grab  that  first 
half  million  bushels  to  hold  up  the  market;  they  may 
even  absorb  a  million.  We'll  try  'em,  at  any  rate. 
What  next?" 

"Having  sold  all  we  can  at  the  market,  Cappy,  our 
next  move  will  be  to  kick  the  market  to  pieces." 

"How?" 

"Publicity !    We'll  tell  all  we  know  to  the  bears. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  299 

bulls  will  get  panicky ;  the  bears  will  take  heart  of  hope, 
and  with  Number  One  white  Australian  wheat  they'll 
beat  the  brains  out  of  the  market  and  in  all  probability 
kick  it  down  to  $1.85,  at  which  figure  we  promptly 
buy  as  much  wheat  as  we  have  previously  sold.  Thus 
we  cover  our  shorts,  and  the  difference  between  $1.89% 
and  $1.85,  less  brokerage  and  interest — if  any — will 
be,  roughly  speaking,  four  cents.  Four  cents  on  a 
quarter  of  a  million  bushels  is  ten  thousand  dollars — 
not  a  great  deal,  truly,  in  these  days  of  swollen  for 
tunes,  but,  nevertheless,  a  nice  piece  of  velvet — eh, 
Gappy,  you  sporty  boy?" 

"It  isn't  so  much  the  money  we  make,"  Gappy  replied 
sagely.  "It's  the  fun  we  have  making  it,  my  boy ;  the 
joy  of  putting  over  a  winner.  The  instant  a  man 
begins  to  love  money  for  money's  sake  he's  a  knave 
and  a  fool.  Kill  him!  But — er — ahem — as  you  say, 
my  dear  young  friend,  ten  thousand  each  is  not  to  be — 
er — sneezed  at." 

"Then  you're  coming  in  on  the  deal?" 

"I  should  tell  a  man !" 

After  the  fashion  of  the  West  they  shook  hands  on  it 
and  went  to  luncheon  at  the  Commercial  Club. 


CHAPTER    XLII 

Directly  luncheon  was  over  and  Cappy  Ricks 
had  returned  to  his  office,  J.  Augustus  Redell 
moved  into  action.  He  called  on  Messrs.  Ford 
&  Carter,  talked  the  situation  over  with  them,  and 
showed  them  where  they,  having  the  necessary  tonnage 
in  hand  with  which  to  guarantee  delivery,  could  bring 
a  couple  of  million  bushels  of  fine  Number  One  white 
Australian  wheat  to  the  Pacific  Coast,  cut  the  price  a 
cent,  and  doubtless  unload  every  kernel  of  it  at  a  fair 
profit.  There  was  every  probability  that  wheat  would 
go  to  two  dollars.  For  his  part  in  producing  this 
profit  Mr.  Redell  desired  a  commission  of  five  per 
cent  on  all  sales  of  wheat  imported  in  the  bottoms  he 
had  under  option  and  which  he  stood  ready  to  turn  over 
to  Ford  &  Carter  without  profit,  since  the  owners  of 
the  vessels  would  pay  him  the  customary  broker's  com 
mission  on  the  freight  money  earned  on  the  voyage. 
Ford  &  Carter  said  they  would  think  the  matter  over; 
so  Mr.  Redell  tactfully  withdrew,  stating  that  he  would 
call  up  the  following  day  for  an  answer. 

He  knew  Ford  &  Carter  would  promptly  dispatch 
a  long  cablegram  to  their  agent  in  Australia,  instruct 
ing  him  to  get  a  forty-eight-hour  option  on  the  wheat, 
with  a  guaranty  of  delivery  to  the  vessels  as  they  ar 
rived  from  time  to  time.  Meantime,  Ford  &  Carter 
would  quote  every  milling  company  in  the  West,  subject 
to  prior  acceptance  and  their  ability  to  deliver  Num- 

300 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  301 

her  One  Australian  wheat  at  a  price  that  would  be 
of  interest.  If  the  milling  companies  accepted  this 
rather  nebulous  quotation  and  telegraphed  orders,  and 
Ford  &  Carter's  Australian  agent  could  purchase  at  a 
satisfactory  price  the  wheat  to  fill  these  orders,  then 
Ford  &  Carter  would  make  formal  acceptance  and 
purchase  the  wheat.  If,  on  the  other  hand,  their  agent 
in  Australia  failed  to  get  the  wheat,  then  Ford  &  Carter 
had  an  "out"  with  the  milling  companies  who  desired 
to  buy  the  wheat  from  them,  and  the  entire  matter 
would  be  off,  with  Ford  &  Carter  merely  out  a  couple 
of  hundred  dollars  in  telegraph  bills.  That  was  the 
bet  they  had  to  make  to  put  their  fortune  to  the  touch ; 
and  right  cheerfully  did  they  make  it. 

J.  Augustus  Redell  gave  them  all  the  time  he  could. 
His  forty-eight-hour  options  on  the  vessels  then  en 
route  to  Australia  had  cost  him  nothing;  that  was  a 
courtesy  which  one  shipowner  always  extends  to  an 
other,  free  of  charge,  unless  the  vessel  happens  to  be 
on  demurrage  at  the  time  the  option  is  given.  When 
his  options  were  within  two  hours  of  expiring  he  called 
on  Ford  &  Carter. 

"We'll  take  'em  all,"  Carter  almost  shouted  at  him. 
"They'll  be  arriving  with  sufficient  time  elapsing  be 
tween  arrivals  to  guarantee  us  immunity  from  any 
undue  delay  or  embarrassment  in  loading  them.  We've 
bought  the  wheat  and  sold  it ;  now  give  us  the  tonnage 
to  freight  it,  Redell,  and  we'll  all  be  happy,  and  a  little 
richer  than  we  were  the  day  before  yesterday." 

Redell  took  up  the  telephone  and  called  each  ship 
owner,  in  turn,  to  inform  him  that  he  would  exercise  his 
option  on  the  latter's  ship,  and  for  the  owner  to  pre- 


302  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

pare  charter  parties  and  send  them  up  to  his  office  for 
signature. 

"I  will  have  no  difficulty  in  getting  the  owners  to 
agree  to  an  assignment  of  these  charters  to  you,"  he 
advised  Carter.  "You  and  Ford  are  brothers  in  good 
standing,  I  take  it.  However,  if  they  insist  on  doing 
business  through  me,  in  order  that  they  may  hold  me 
responsible,  I'll  simply  recharter  to  you  at  the  same 
rate." 

"Lovely !"  cried  Messrs.  Ford  &  Carter  in  unison. 

Ten  minutes  later  J.  Augustus  Redell  burst  into 
Cappy  Ricks'  sanctum  and  wakened  the  old  gentleman 
from  his  afternoon  siesta. 

"The  trap  is  set,"  he  announced.  "Come  on,  Cappy ! 
We're  going  up  to  the  broker's  office  now  and  give  the 
order  to  sell  our  December  wheat.  I  can't  go  alone, 
you  know.  There  wouldn't  be  an  odor  of  sanctity 
about  the  transaction  if  I  did." 

"We'll  have  Gregg  &  Company  attend  to  it  for  us," 
Cappy  announced.  "You  remember  Harry  Gregg, 
don't  you?  Used  to  be  in  the  steamship  business  years 
ago.  Gosh,  that  boy  knows  me!  He'll  take  a  sti# 
finger  bet  from  Alden  P.  Ricks." 

Together  they  motored  uptown  to  the  office  of  Gregg 
&  Co.,  where  Cappy's  card  gained  him  instant  ad 
mittance  to  the  broker's  private  office.  Redell  remained 
in  the  anteroom  on  pretense  of  speaking  to  an  acquaint 
ance,  and  the  instant  Cappy  disappeared  into  Gregg's 
office  Redell  stepped  out  into  the  hall,  where  he  waited 
until  Cappy  had  booked  his  order  and  came  hunting 
for  him. 

"Well,  I've  sold  my  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand 
bushels  at  a  dollar-ninety,"  Cappy  announced. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  603 

"How  much  margin?"  Redell  demanded. 

"Oh,  Gregg  didn't  sting  me  very  hard.  Ten  cents  a 
bushel.  It  seemed  like  a  good  bet  to  him.  He  looks  for 
a  drop  in  December  wheat." 

"Met  a  pest  out  here  and  couldn't  seem  to  get  away 
from  him,"  Redell  explained.  "Take  me  in  and  intro 
duce  me  to  Gregg,  and  I'll  give  him  an  order  to  sell 
a  jag  of  wheat  for  me." 

Gappy  complied  and  Redell  gave  the  broker  his 
order. 

"It  will  take  about  twenty-five  thousand  dollars  to 
margin  this  trade,  Mr.  Redell,"  the  latter  remarked 
easily  as  he  wrote  out  the  order  and  handed  a  copy  to 
Redell. 

"Nonsense !"  Gappy  struck  in.  "Mr.  Redell  is  one  of 
our  most  delightful,  trustworthy  and  popular  young 
men,  and  to  ask  him  for  twenty-five  thousand  dollars 
today  would  prejudice  his  standing  with  his  banker.  I 
guarantee  him,  Harry.  Treat  him  as  you'd  treat  me. 
I  guarantee  him  up  to  a  hundred  thousand  dollars." 

"Your  guaranty  goes  with  me,  Mr.  Ricks,"  Gregg 
answered  promptly,  and  shoved  the  copy  of  the  order 
he  had  just  booked  over  to  Gappy,  together  with  the 
fountain  pen.  Gappy  wrote:  "O.  K.  Alden  P.  Ricks." 
Redell  gave  his  check  for  ten  thousand  dollars  margin 
and  the  deal  was  closed.  When  the  scheming  pair  re 
turned  to  Cappy's  office  the  latter  gave  Redell  his 
check  for  ten  thousand  to  reimburse  Redell  for  mar 
gining  the  trade,  in  accordance  with  Cappy's  verbal 
agreement  to  provide  the  sinews  of  war. 

"Now  then,  Gappy,"  Redell  announced  as  he  stuffed 
Cappy's  check  into  his  pocket,  "the  next  move  is  to 
return  to  my  office,  close  those  charters  with  the 


304  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

owners  and  turn  the  ships  over  to  Ford  &  Carter. 
That  matter  attended  to,  I  shall,  with  eighteen  charter 
parties  in  my  pocket,  drift  casually  over  to  the  Mer 
chants*  Exchange.  There  I  shall  find  the  market  re 
porters  for  both  of  our  sunrise  sheets ;  if  they  are  not 
there  I  shall  wait  until  they  arrive.  These  gifted  young 
men  I  shall  draw  to  one  side;  to  them  I  shall,  with 
great  gusto,  relate  a  tale  of  Number  One  white  Aus 
tralian  wheat,  shortly  to  descend  upon  the  United  States 
of  America  in  no  less  than  eighteen  vessels,  now  char 
tered  for  that  purpose,  with  more  to  follow.  In  proof 
of  this  statement  I  shall  exhibit  the  charter  parties; 
and  then " 

"Front-page  story !"  Cappy  declared,  interrupting. 

"Not  yet — but  soon.  To  get  on  the  front  page  a 
story  must  be  rather  unusual.  A  perusal  of  our  daily 
rags  will  convince  the  most  skeptical  that  the  sensa 
tional,  the  unusual,  the  bizarre  are  what  appeal  most  to 
the  men  who  make  the  newspapers.  The  unusual  thing 
about  our  deal  lies  in  the  fact  that  this  is  the  first  time 
in  the  history  of  Australia  or  the  United  States  that 
the  former  country  has  exported  wheat  into  the  latter 
— the  first  time  the  latter  has  ever  had  to  call  on  an 
outsider  for  help.  Then,  Cappy,  it  will  be  a  front-page 
story — and  how  those  boys  will  hop  to  it !  Why,  we'll 
get  a  column  about  Australian  wheat  invading  the  land 
of  the  free  whose  rapacity  threatens  the  very  food 
that  goes  into  the  mouths  of  little  children!  Litl 
children  and  their  mouths  is  good  stuff!  I'll  use  thi 
line  when  slipping  the  story  to  the  boys.  They 
overlook  it  if  I  didn't.  I'll  remind  them  of  the  six-cei 
loaf  of  bread,  the  sufferings  of  the  poor,  and  how  ft 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  305 

the  importation  of  Australian  wheat  will  go  to  knock 
the  Chicago  wheat  barons  for  a  goal." 

"Here,  here!  You're  too  precipitate,"  Cappy  cau 
tioned.  "Don't  tip  this  story  off  to  both  reporters. 
That's  coarse  work.  Tell  it  to  one  only.  Put  him  under 
obligations  to  you  by  seeming  to  give  him  a  scoop. 
Tell  him  you  won't  say  a  word  to  his  competitor,  and 
he'll  tell  his  city  editor  the  story  is  exclusive;  then 
they'll  be  certain  to  play  it  up  big." 

"Cappy,  you're  the  shadow  of  a  rock  in  a  weary 
land !  Who'll  tip  off  the  other  reporter?" 

"I  will,  of  course.  Leave  it  to  me.  A  man  doesn't 
go  through  the  mill  of  Big  Business  without  knowing 
the  way  of  that  singularly  useful  individual,  the  news 
paper  man." 

Redell  sat  down  and  laughed  until  the  tears  ran  down 
his  merry  countenance.  Cappy  thought  the  outlook 
sufficiently  cheerful  to  warrant  that  laugh,  and  sus 
pected  nothing.  He  even  joined  in  the  laugh. 

"And  to-morrow  morning,  when  that  story  appears, 
the  local  brokerage  firms  will  be  calling  up  Ford  & 
Carter  to  verify  it,"  Redell  continued  presently.  "Of 
course  it  will  be  verified ;  then — bingo !  the  story  will 
be  wired  on  to  Chicago.  It  busts,  first,  in  the  Wheat 
Pit  and,  second,  in  the  afternoon  editions.  The  bears 
will  leap  on  the  market  and  kick  it  to  pieces ;  the  bulls 
will  get  panic-stricken  and  hesitate  about  supporting 
it;  all  the  little  fellows  who  have  been  going  long  on 
December  wheat  will  get  cold  feet  and  throw  their 
trades  overboard;  and  before  the  smoke  clears  away 
December  wheat  will  break  four  or  five  points." 

Cappy  Ricks   put   his   old   arm   around  his   young 


306 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


friend   £nd   gave    him    a    paternal   hug.     He   winked 
wickedly. 

"My  dear  boy,"  he  suggested,  "suppose  you  and  I  go 
out  and  pin  one  on?  Hey?  How  about  you,  boy?  A 
pint  of  '98,  in  order  that  we  may  properly  drink  con 
fusion  to  the  wolf  of  want  and  damnation  to  dull  care !" 


CHAPTER  XLIII 

Late  that  afternoon  Cappy  Ricks  graciously  sum 
moned  the  Chronicle  reporter  to  his  office  and  told 
him  in  detail  all  he  knew  about  the  Australian  wheat 
invasion. 

"Of  course,"  he  added,  "this  may  be  mere  street 
gossip;  but  I  think  there's  something  in  it,  my  boy. 
At  any  rate,  I  thought  you  might  care  to  be  tipped  off 
to  the  situation.  It  looks  like  a  corking  story  to  me. 
I  suggest  that  you  call  up  Ford  &  Carter  and  see  what 
they  have  to  say  about  it." 

"I  wonder  whether  the  Examiner  reporter  has  a  tip 
on  this?"  the  Chronicle  man  queried  hopefully. 

"Not  from  me.  This  story  is  for  you,  young  man. 
That's  why  I  called  you  down  to  my  office." 

About  the  same  hour  J.  Augustus  Redell  might  have 
been  seen  at  the  press  table  on  'Change,  unfolding  a 
similar  story  to  the  market  reporter  of  the  Examiner, 
who  thought  it  was  a  humdinger  of  a  story,  and  so 
declared. 

"All  right.  Glad  you  think  so,"  Mr.  Redell  replied, 
beaming  upon  him.  "And  just  to  show  you  I'm  right, 
I'll  not  breathe  a  word  of  it  to  the  Chronicle  man." 

Having  planted  his  journalistic  bomb,  Mr.  Redell 
glanced  at  his  watch.  It  was  exactly  eleven  o'clock. 
"I  still  have  time,"  he  murmured,  and  departed  imme 
diately  to  the  office  of  Gregg  &  Co.,  where  he  placed  an 
order  to  sell  for  his  account  up  to  half  a  million  bushels 

307 


308 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


of  December  wheat,  but  to  cease  selling  the  instant 
market  hesitated  to   absorb  it   or  the  price  broke 
point.      At   the   same  moment,   in   another   brokeraj 
office,  Cappy  Ricks  was  issuing  a  similar  order, 
fore  the  market  closed,  Cappy  had  succeeded  in  sel] 
ing  a  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  bushels,  while  R< 
dell  had  disposed  of  a  hundred  and  thirty.     Evidenth 
the  bears  took  it  as  it  came,  for  the  market  clos< 
strong  at  $1.89. 

Neither  Cappy  nor  Redell  reported  at  his  office  t] 
following  day.  At  the  hour  when  the  market  open( 
in  Chicago  both  schemers  appeared  on  the  floor  of  t] 
Merchants'  Exchange  and  bent  their  gaze  upon  the  onl; 
blackboard  on  'Change  they  had  not  heretofore  honoi 
with  their  scrutiny — the  board  in  back  of  the  Gr* 
Pit,  which  carried  the  quotations  on  the  Chicago  Boai 
of  Trade,  already  beginning  to  come  in  by  wire. 

For  an  hour  the  trading  was  inactive.  Then  sud 
denly  the  price  broke  half  a  point  as  somebody  tossc 
a  lot  of  fifty  thousand  bushels  on  the  market.  Cappj 
and  Redell  each  wondered  whether  he  might  not  be  th< 
responsible  party;  and  while  they  pondered  somebody 
unloaded  a  hundred  thousand  bushels  at  $1.88.  Capp; 
gasped  as  the  quotations  appeared  on  the  blackboai 

"Something  doing,  Gus !"  he  whispered ;  Redell  n< 
ded. 

And  now  commenced  a  period  of  wild  trading.     Tl 
price  crept  back  to  $1.89,  only  to  be  assaulted  ai 
beaten  back  to  $1.87;  then,  fraction  by  fraction  anc 
point  by  point,  the  price  fell;  and  J.  Augustus  Red( 
wagged  his  head  approvingly. 

"They  have  received  our  message,"  he  said, 
riot  is  on !" 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  309 

When  the  price  had  been  beaten  down  to  $1.83 
Cappy  turned  to  his  associate. 

"I'm  through !"  he  said.  "Time  to  cover  my  shorts." 
And  he  trotted  away  to  a  telephone  booth. 

As  for  Redell,  he  would  not  intrust  his  fortune  to 
a  telephonic  order,  but  sprang  into  his  runabout, 
parked  at  the  curb  outside  the  Exchange,  and  scorched 
uptown  to  Gregg  &  Co.'s  offices,  where  he  learned  that 
he  had  sold  four  hundred  and  ten  thousand  bushels  of 
December  wheat.  One  hundred  thousand  had  been  sold 
at  $1.90,  two  hundred  and  eighty  thousand  at  prices 
varying  from  $1.89  to  $1.88%,  and  the  remainder  at 
1.88. 

"Buy  me  four  hundred  and  ten  thousand  bushels  at 
the  market,"  he  ordered. 

Before  he  left  the  office  the  sale  had  been  confirmed 
and  Mr.  Redell's  shorts  had  been  covered  at  a  price 
ranging  from  $1.83  to  $1.83%,  whereupon  he  closed 
out  his  trade  and  received  a  check  for  his  margin  and 
his  profits.  An  hour  later  he  met  Cappy  Ricks  again 
on  'Change. 

"Well,  Cappy?"  he  queried. 

"I  cleaned  up,  thank  you,"  the  old  gentleman  in 
formed  him.  "Sold,  bought,  and  got  the  money.  This 
is  one  time  it  rained  duck  soup  and  I  was  there  with 
a  bucket." 

He  prodded  Mr.  Redell  playfully  in  the  short  ribs 
and  the  incident  was  closed.  They  had  made  a  profit 
of  more  than  twenty  thousand  dollars  each;  and  when 
each  returned  to  his  office  he  forgot  all  about  December 
wheat  until  half  past  five  that  evening,  when  both  met 
on  the  deserted  floor  of  the  exchange  to  scan  the  black 
board.  December  wheat  had  closed  that  day  at  $1.83! 


310  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Two  days  later  J.  Augustus  Redell  called  Cappy 
Ricks  on  the  telephone. 

"That  you,  Cappy?" 

"Yep!" 

"Redell  speaking.  Read  the  story  on  the  front  page 
of  the  Chronicle  this  morning?" 

"No;  what  was  it?" 

"The  British  Government  has  placed  an  embargo 
on  the  exportation  of  wheat  from  Australia;  so  all 
those  eighteen  charters  I  negotiated  with  Ford  &  Car 
ter  are  knocked  out." 

"You  don't  say  so!" 

"Surest  thing  you  know,  Cappy." 

"Well,  say !  That  makes  it  hard  on  Ford  &  Carter, 
doesn't  it?  All  those  ships  on  their  hands  and  no 
wheat !  They'll  have  to  hustle  like  the  devil  to  dig  up 
new  business  for  them." 

"Not  at  all !  There's  a  clause  in  the  charter  parties 
that  saves  them.  You  know,  Cappy — that  line  about 
fires,  floods,  strikes,  lockouts,  the  acts  of  the  public 
enemy,  and  other  causes  beyond  their  control.  Conse 
quently  the  ships  are  back  on  their  owners'  hands.  I 
wish  you  joy  with  your  five,  Cappy." 

"Well,  that's  all  right.  Considering  my  winnings 
in  December  wheat  I  won't  hold  it  against  Ford  & 
Carter;  so  you  needn't  inject  that  note  of  malice  into 
your  conversation.  Those  boys  are  stuck  hard  enough 
as  it  is,  I  dare  say.  They've  contracted  to  deliver  a 
lot  of  Australian  wheat  to  various  milling  companies; 
they  can't  do  it,  and  I'll  bet  they'll  be  sued  out  of  house 
and  home  for  breach  of  contract." 

"Oh,  no,  they  won't!  They  hedged  on  their  quota 
tions  when  making  them;  all  those  telegraphic  orders 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  311 

were  placed  with  Ford  &  Carter  subject  to  Ford  & 
Carter's  ability  to  make  delivery  and  to  prior  sale. 
Before  Ford  &  Carter  could  make  them  firm  orders 
and  get  in  over  their  heads,  I  tipped  them  off  to  the 
possibility  of  this  government  embargo." 

"You  tipped  them  off!  How  did  you  know  the 
British  Government  was  going  to  clap  an  embargo  on 
Australian  wheat?" 

"Why,  I  didn't  know,"  Redell  confessed.  "I  just 
guessed  it  would;  so  I  advised  Ford  &  Carter  to  lay 
low  a  day  or  two  and  await  developments.  Said  de 
velopments  appear  to  have  arrived  according  to  sched 
ule,  so  everybody's  happy.  I  have  even  reimbursed 
Ford  &  Carter  to  the  extent  of  a  two-hundred-and- 
eighty-five-dollar  telegraph  bill  they  incurred.  You  see, 
Cappy,  I  gave  them  the  wrong  steer,  and  I  knew  it 
was  wrong  when  I  gave  it  to  them;  consequently  my 
conscience  wouldn't  let  me  rest  until  I'd  squared  my 
self." 

"You  in-fer-nal  scoundrel!  Well,  you  didn't  give 
me  the  wrong  steer;  and  I'm  surprised  at  that.  For 
once  in  your  life  you  were  on  the  level." 

"Don't  cheer  until  you're  out  of  the  woods.  Do 
you  remember  that  German  steamer,  the  Valkyrie, 
that  you  skinned  me  out  of  last  year?" 

"Ah!"  Cappy  chuckled;  "you  bet  I  remember  that! 
Maybe  after  a  while,  my  dear  young  friend,  you'll 
get  enough  of  this  funny  business  and  lay  off  on  the 
old  man." 

"I'm  off  you  now.  I've  had  enough  of  you,  Cappy 
Ricks.  I've  made  fifty  thousand  dollars  off  you  in  the 
past  week ;  and  that  satisfies  me." 

"Gus,  don't  lie  to  me !    You  didn't  make  a  cent  more 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


than  I  did — and  I  made  a  trifle  more  than  twenty-four 
thousand  dollars." 

"I?  that  so?  Well,  listen  to  me  tell  it;  When  you 
and  I  cashed  in  that  day  our  deal  was  closed  wasn'1 
it?" 

"Yes." 

"And  I'd  played  fair  with  you?" 

"You  certainly  did,  Gus." 

"Then  I  was  freed  from  any  further  obligations  t( 
take  you  into  partnership  with  me,  was  I  not?" 

"That's  how  I  figure  it,  my  boy." 

"That's  how  I  figured  it  also,  Gappy.  Consequently, 
being  morally  certain  that  the  British  Government 
would  place  an  embargo  on  the  exportation  of  Austra 
lian  wheat — Gappy,  you  must  admit  that  the  Britisl 
Government  would  have  been  absolutely  crazy  if  i1 
hadn't — I  just  called  on  Gregg  &  Co.  and  boughl 
another  half  million  bushels  of  December  wheat  a1 
$1.83  to  $1.84  a  bushel.  Then  I  sat  tight  and  wail 
for  that  embargo  story  to  break.  Gappy,  do  you  knoi 
that  story  just  raised  hell  on  the  Chicago  Pit  today] 
The  bears  were  caught  napping ;  and  the  bulls  got  busy 
and  kicked  the  price  up  to  $1.90  again,  at  which  figure 
unloaded  and  took  my  profit." 

"You  amazing  rascal!  Why  didn't  you  tip  your 
partner  off  to  that  deal?" 

"We  were  no  longer  partners.  You  admitted  that  a 
moment  ago.  When  I  first  outlined  this  scheme  I  didn't 
have  a  dollar  to  spare  with  which  I  could  speculate. 
Every  last  cent  was  tied  up  in  the  business  of  the  West 
Coast  Trading  Company.  So  I  schemed  to  take  you 
in  as  a  partner  on  one-half  of  the  deal;  and  you  not 
only  financed  me  but  guaranteed  me  to  the  broker! 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  313 

Your  introduction  was  all  I  wanted.  After  that  my 
credit  was  as  good  as  December  wheat ;  in  consequence 
of  which,  without  a  cent  invested,  I  was  actually  enabled 
to  carry  a  trade  for  half  a  million  bushels !  Much 
obliged  to  you,  Cappy.  You're  a  fine  old  sport,  and 
I  like  you — I  wouldn't  be  surprised  if  you  laid  off  on 
me  after  this — eh,  Cappy?" 

"Gus,"  said  Cappy  Ricks,  "one  of  these  days  the 
Democratic  party  is  going  to  wake  up  and  discover 
that  America  isn't  where  they  left  it  the  night  before! 
And  when  that  happens  they're  going  to  ask  you  about 
it,  you — you — infer-nal " 

The  phone  clicked.  J.  Augustus  Redell  had  hung 
up. 

"Drat  it! God  bless  him!"  murmured  Cappy 

Ricks — and  hung  up,  too. 


CHAPTER   XLIV 

WHENEVER  Gappy  Ricks  made  up  his  mind  tha 
his  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  ought  t 
add  another  vessel  to  its  rapidly  growing  fleet,  he  pre 
f erred  to  build  her ;  for  a  few  bitter  experiences  early  i 
life  had  convinced  him  that  the  man  who  buys  the  othe 
fellow's  ship  quite  frequently  is  given  a  bonus  in  th 
shape  of  the  other  fellow's   troubles — troubles   whic 
have  the  unhappy  faculty   of   tilting  the  profit-and 
loss  account  over  into  the  red-ink  figures.     In  orde 
to  avoid  these  troubles,  therefore,  Cappy  would  sum 
mon  his  naval  architect,  whom  he  would  practically 
drive  to  distraction  by  fussing  over  the  plans  submittec 
before  giving  a  final  grudging  acceptance.     The  blu 
prints  approved,  Cappy  would  spend  a  week  pickinj 
holes  in  the  specifications,  and  when  there  was  no  mor 
fault  to  find  Mr.  Skinner,  his  general  manager  and  th 
president  of  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company 
would  send  a  list  of  the  timbers,  planking,  and  so  on 
required,  to  one  of  Cappy's  sawmills  in  Washington 
for  Cappy  had  a  theory — the  good  Lord  knows  why  or 
where   acquired — that  Douglas   fir  from  the   state  01 
Washington  was  better  for  shipbuilding  purposes  than 
Douglas  fir  grown  in  Oregon.    Perhaps  he  figured  that 
the  Columbia  River,  which  separates  the  two   states 
made  a  difference  in  grade. 

The  woods  boss  would  then  be  adjured  to  select  his 
trees  with  great  care.     No  tree  would  do  that  sprouted 

314 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  315 

a  limb  within  eighty  feet  of  the  butt,  and  the  butt 
had  to  be  at  least  six  feet  in  diameter,  in  order  that  it 
might  produce  fine,  clear,  long-length  planks  that  would 
not  contain  "heart"  timber — the  heart  of  a  log  having 
a  tendency  to  check  or  split  when  seasoned.  When  the 
material  was  sawed  a  Blue  Star  steam  schooner  would 
transport  it  to  San  Francisco  Bay,  and  it  would  be 
stored  in  Cappy's  retail  lumber  yard  in  Oakland,  to 
be  seasoned  and  air-dried ;  following  which  Gappy  Ricks 
would  let  the  contract  for  the  building  of  the  vessel  to 
a  shipyard  on  Oakland  Estuary,  and  sell  the  builder 
this  seasoned  stock  at  the  price  of  rough  green  material, 
even  though  it  was  worth  two  dollars  a  thousand  extra 
— not  to  mention  the  additional  value  for  the  extra-long 
lengths  furnished  specially.  Cappy's  ancestors,  back 
in  Maine,  had  built  too  many  ships  to  have  failed  to  im 
press  upon  him  the  wisdom  of  this  course;  for,  on 
this  point  at  least,  initial  extravagance  inevitably  de 
velops  into  ultimate  economy. 

Following  the  laying  of  the  keel,  Gappy  would  come 
out  of  retirement  and  become  an  extremely  busy  man. 
He  had  the  vessel's  engines  to  consider;  and  for  two 
weeks  his  private  office  would  resound  with  the  argu 
ments  and  recriminations  of  Gappy  and  his  port  en 
gineer.  There  would  be  much  talk  of  pistons,  displace 
ment  of  cylinders,  stroke,  reciprocating  engines,  steeple 
compound  and  triple-expansion  engines,  Scotch  boilers, 
winches,  compressors,  dynamos,  composition  and  iron 
propellers  and  the  latest  developments  in  crude-oil 
burners.  And  on  the  day  when  the  port  engineer, 
grown  desperate  because  of  the  old  man's  opposition  to 
some  detail,  would  fly  into  a  rage  and  resign,  Gappy 
would  know  that,  at  last,  everything  was  all  right; 


316 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


whereupon  he  would  scornfully  reject  the  resignation 
and  take  his  port  engineer  to  luncheon  at  the  Com 
mercial  Club,  just  to  show  he  wasn't  harboring  a 
grudge. 

In  the  meantime  the  port  captain  would  be  making 
daily  visits  to  the  shipyard  to  make  certain  that  the 
builder  was  holding  rigidly  to  the  specifications  and 
not  trying  to  skimp  here  and  there;  and  on  Saturdays 
Cappy  would  accompany  him  and  satisfy  himself  that 
the  port  captain  wasn't  being  imposed  upon.  Finally 
the  ship  would  be  launched;  and  as  she  slid  down  the 
ways  Cappy  Ricks  would  be  standing  on  her  forecastle 
head,  his  old  heart  fluttering  in  his  thirty-six-inch 
chest  and  his  coat-tails  fluttering  in  the  breeze,  one 
arm  round  the  port  captain  and  the  other  round  the 
port  engineer.  As  the  hull  slipped  into  the  drink  he 
would  say: 

"Boys,  this  is  the  life!  I  love  it!  By  the  Holy 
Pink-Toed  Prophet,  there's  more  romance  in  ships  than 
you'll  find  in  most  married  lives  !"  Then  he  would  wave 
an  arm  up  Oakland  Estuary,  which  prior  to  the  great 
war  was  the  graveyard  of  Pacific  Coast  shipping,  and 
say  with  great  pride:  "Well,  we've  done  a  good  job  on 
this  craft,  boys;  she'll  never  end  in  Rotten  Row! 
Every  sliver  in  her  is  air-dried  and  seasoned.  That's 
the  stuff!  Build  'em  of  unseasoned  material  and  dry 
rot  develops  the  first  year;  in  five  years  they're  punk 
inside,  and  then — some  fine  day  they're  posted  as 
missing  at  Lloyd's.  Did  you  ever  see  a  Blue  Star 
ship  lying  in  Rotten  Row  ?  No ;  you  bet  you  didn't 
— and  you  never  will !  I  never  built  a  cheap  boat  and 
I  never  ran  'em  cheap.  By  gravy,  the  Blue  Star  ships 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  317 

are  like  the  Blue  Nose  that  owns  'em !  They'll  be  found 
dead  on  the  job!" 

Quite  early  in  1915  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany  had  found  ample  opportunity,  due  to  a  world 
scarcity  of  tonnage,  to  dispose  of  several  of  their 
oldest  and  smallest  steam  schooners  at  unbelievably 
fine  prices. 

"Get  rid  of  them,  Matt,"  Cappy  advised  his  son-in- 
law,  Captain  Matt  Peasley,  whom  he  had  made  presi 
dent  of  the  company.  "You  have  the  permission  of  the 
president  emeritus  to  go  as  far  as  you  like.  Big  boats 
for  us  from  now  on,  boy.  Slip  the  little  ones  while 
the  slipping  is  good.  These  high  prices  will  not  pre 
vail  very  long — only  while  the  war  continues;  and  at 
the  rate  they're  slaughtering  each  other  over  in  France 
the  war  will  be  over  in  six  months;  then  prices  will 
fall  kerflump !  Then  we'll  build  a  couple  of  real 
steamers." 

So  Matt  Peasley  promptly  sold  five  steam  schooners, 
following  which  he  made  up  his  mind  that  the  world  still 
had  two  years  of  war  ahead  of  it.  Accordingly  he  urged 
the  letting  of  contracts  for  two  seven- thousand-five- 
hundred-ton  steel  freighters  immediately. 

"Nothing  doing !"  Cappy  declared.  "Why,  it's  rank 
nonsense  to  think  of  building  now  at  wartime  prices. 
If  our  recent  sales  have  pinched  us  for  tonnage  we'll 
have  to  charter  from  our  neighbors  and  worry  along 
as  best  we  can  until  the  war  is  over." 

"You're  making  a  mistake,  Cappy  Ricks,"  his  son-in- 
law  warned  him. 

"Ask  Skinner  if  I  am.  Skinner,  let's  have  your  opin 
ion." 

Mr.  Skinner,  always  cautious  and  ultra-conservative 


318 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


promptly  advised  against  Matt  Peasley's  course;  but 
Matt  would  not  be  downed  without  a  fight. 

"I  know  prices  for  ship  construction  are  fearfully 
high  just  now,"  he  admitted;  "but — mark  my  words  !— 
they're  going  to  double;  and  if  we  place  our  contracts 
now,  while  we  have  an  opportunity  to  do  so,  we'll  be 
getting  in  on  the  ground  floor.  I  tell  you  that  war 
hasn't  really  started  yet ;  and  the  longer  it  continues 
the  higher  will  prices  on  all  commodities  soar — but 
principally  on  ship  construction.  Father-in-law,  I 
beg  of  you  to  let  me  get  busy  and  build.  Suppose  the 
boats  do  cost  us  a  quarter  of  a  million  dollars  more 
each  than  we  could  have  built  them  for  in  1914.  What 
of  it?  We  have  the  money — and  if  we  didn't  have  it 
we  could  borrow  it.  I  don't  care  what  a  ship  costs 
me  when  freight  rates  are  soaring  to  meet  the  advance 
in  construction  costs." 

Nevertheless,  Cappy  and  Mr.  Skinner  hooted  him 
down.  Three  months  later,  however,  when  Cappy 
Ricks  had  changed  his  mind,  and  Mr.  Skinner  was  too 
heartbroken  to  curse  himself  for  a  purblind  idiot,  it  was 
too  late  to  place  the  contracts.  Every  shipyard  in 
the  United  States  and  abroad  was  loaded  up  with 
building  orders  for  three  years  in  advance,  and  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company  was  left  to  twiddle  its  cor 
porate  thumbs.  Matt  Peasley  was  so  angry  that  he 
almost  speculated  on  the  delight  of  being  at  sea  again, 
in  command  of  a  square  rigger,  with  Cappy  Ricks  and 
Mr.  Skinner  signed  on  as  A.B.'s ;  in  which  condition  of 
servitude  he  might  dare  to  call  them  aft  and  knock  their 
heads  together.  However,  he  managed  to  have  his 
revenge.  Every  time  nitrate  freights  went  up  a  dollar 
a  ton  he  told  them  about  it  with  great  gusto,  and  the 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  319 

day  he  chartered  the  Tillicum  for  Vladivostok,  with 
steel  for  the  Russian  Government  at  seventy-five  dollars 
a  ton,  he  had  poor  Gappy  moaning  in  his  wretchedness. 

"Just  think  how  nice  it  would  be,"  he  taunted  his 
aged  relative,  "if  we  had  only  placed  contracts  for  two 
big  boats  when  I  urged  it.  By  the  middle  of  summer 
I'd  have  them  both  on  the  Vladivostok  run — perhaps  at 
a  hundred  dollars  a  ton;  and  long  before  the  war  is 
over  you  could  do  what  you've  been  trying  to  do  for 
the  past  ten  years." 

"Do  what?"  Gappy  queried. 

"Retire !"  Matt  retorted  meaningly. 

"In-fernal  young  scoundrel !"  Gappy  was  angry 
enough  to  commit  murder.  "Out  of  my  office!"  he 
shrilled,  and  pointed  to  the  door. 


CHAPTER   XLV 

For  once  in  his  busy  life  it  was,  figuratively  speak 
ing,  raining  duck  soup,  and  poor  Cappy  was  there 
with  a  fork !  When  he  had  recovered  his  composure  he 
sent  for  Matt  Peasley. 

"Matt,  my  dear  boy,"  he  confessed  miserably,  "this 
is  certainly  one  occasion  upon  which  father  appears 
to  have  overlooked  his  hand.  However,  none  of  us  is 
perfect ;  and  if  we're  caught  out  without  an  umbrella, 
so  to  speak " 

"We?"  Matt  reminded  him  witheringly.  "Cappy, 
it's  all  right  to  use  that  'we*  stuff  when  you're  talking 
to  Skinner,  but  trot  out  the  perpendicular  pronoun 
when  you're  talking  to  me.  I  hate  to  say  'I  told  you 
so';  but " 

"Lay  off  me!"  Cappy  pleaded.  "I'm  an  old  man, 
Matt;  so  be  easy  on  me.  Besides,  I  don't  make  a  mis 
take  very  often,  and  you  know  it." 

"I  do  know  it.  But  when  you  blocked  me  on  that 
building  scheme  you  certainly  made  up  for  lost  time. 
Really,  Cappy,  you  mustn't  make  me  play  so  close  to 
my  vest  in  these  brisk  times.  If  I'm  to  manage  the 
Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  I  mustn't  have  my 
ideas  pooh-poohed  as  if  I  were  a  hare-brained  child." 

"I  know,  Matt;  I  know.  But  I  built  up  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company  and  the  Ricks  Lumber  & 
Logging  Company  by  playing  'em  close,  and  it's  a  hard 
habit  to  break. 

320 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"However,  let  us  forget  the  past  and  look  forward 
with  confidence  to  the  future.  Matt,  my  dear  boy, 
since  we  cannot  get  a  shipyard  to  build  a  steamer  for 
us,  I'm  going  to  break  a  rule  of  forty  years*  standing 
and  buy  one  in  the  open  market.  I  guess  that'll  prove 
to  you  I'm  not  so  hide-bound  with  conservatism  as  you 
think.  Go  forth  into  the  highways  and  the  byways, 
Matt,  and  see  what  they  have  for  sale." 

"How  high  do  you  want  me  to  go?" 

"As  high  as  they  hung  Haman — if  you  find  it  neces 
sary." 

"That's  certainly  a  free  hand;  but  I'm  afraid  it 
comes  too  late.  I  doubt  if  there  is  an  owner  with  the 
kind  of  steamer  we  want  who  is  crazy  enough  to  sell 
her." 

"Tish !  Tush !  All  things  are  for  sale  all  the  time. 
Scour  the  market,  Matt,  and  you'll  find  Gappy  Ricks 
isn't  the  only  damned  fool  left  in  the  shipping  business. 
My  boy,  you'd  be  surprised  at  the  number  of  so-called 
business  men  who  are  entirely  devoid  of  imagination. 
Dozens  of  them  still  think  the  war  will  end  this  fall, 
but  I'm  willing  to  make  a  healthy  bet  that  the  fall  of 
1917  still  finds  them  going  to  it  to  beat  four  of  a  kind." 

"You  said  something  that  time,  father-in-law,"  Matt 
replied  laughingly. 

Then  he  roughed  the  old  man  affectionately  and 
went  forth  into  California  Street,  where  he  wore  out 
much  shoe  leather  before  he  located  what  he  considered 
a  bargain  and  reported  back  to  the  president  emeritus. 

"You're  right,  Cappy !"  he  declared.  "You  aren't 
the  only  boob  in  the  shipping  business.  I've  located 
another." 

"That's  what  you  get  by  taking  father's   advice," 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


Gappy  retorted  proudly.     "Have  you  bought  a  steam- 


err 


"No;  but  I'm  going  to  buy  one  this  afternoon. 
She's  going  to  cost  us  half  a  million  dollars,  cash  on 
the  nail,  and  I  have  an  option  on  her  at  that  figure 
until  noon  today.  Skinner  has  a  lot  of  lumber  money 
he  isn't  using,  and  I'm  going  to  borrow  a  quarter  oJ 
a  million  from  his  company  on  the  Blue  Star  note  at 
six  per  cent.  Don't  want  to  run  our  own  treasury  too 
low." 

"Dog-gone  that  Skinner!  That's  some  more  of  his 
efficiency.  I  own  both  companies,  and  it's  just 
taking  money  out  of  one  pocket  and  putting  it  into  th< 
other;  but  Skinner's  a  bug  on  system.  Just  think  of 
making  me  pay  myself  six  per  cent  interest!  How 
ever,  I  suppose  we  must  have  some  kind  of  order. 
What's  the  name  of  the  steamer?" 

"The  Penelope." 

Gappy  Ricks  slid  out  to  the  edge  of  his  chair,  plac< 
one  hand  on  each  knee,  and  appraisingly  eyed  his  son- 
in-law  over  the  rims  of  his  glasses. 

"Say  that  again,  Matt — and  say  it  slow,"  he  ordered. 

"I  said  Penelope — P-e-n-e-l-o-p-e.  Maybe  you  call 
her  the  Pen^elope!" 

"Are  you  buying  her  as  is?"  Matt  nodded.  "To 
hear  you  tell  it,  Matt,  one  might  gather  the  impression 
that  half  a  million  dollars  is  about  what  we  give  the 
janitor  at  Christmas.  Boy,  half  a  million  dollars  is 
real  money." 

"Not  in  the  shipping  business  these  days,  Gappy. 
Why,  you  have  to  wave  that  much  under  an  owner's 
nose  before  he'll  look  up  and  show  interest  enough  to 
ask  you  who  you  are  and  who  let  you  in." 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  323 

"Well,  the  man  who  would,  in  cold  blood,  consider 
paying  half  a  milion  dollars  for  the  Penelope  is  cer 
tainly  ripe  for  a  padded  cell,"  Gappy  jeered.  "That 
fellow  Hudner,  of  the  Black  Butte  Lumber  Company, 
owns  her,  does  he  not?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Then  you  know  exactly  the  condition  she's  in.  I'll 
bet  a  cooky  her  bottom  plates  are  rusted  so  thin  from 
lack  of  an  occasional  coat  of  red  paint  that  if  you 
were  to  stand  on  her  bridge  and  toss  a  tack  hammer 
down  her  main  hatch  you'd  punch  a  hole  in  her.  She's 
a  long,  narrow-gutted,  cranky  coffin — that's  what  she 
is;  and  the  worst-found  ship  in  Pacific  waters.  Why, 
let  me  tell  you  something,  young  man:  she  can't  get  by 
the  inspectors  this  minute." 

"She  has  just  gotten  by  them,"  Matt  contradicted. 
"Passed  yesterday." 

"What  does  that  signify  ?  When  her  skipper  has  her 
up  for  inspection  he  scours  the  water  front  like  a 
hungry  dog,  borrowing  a  boathook  here,  a  sound  life 
boat  there,  some  fire  buckets  elsewhere,  a  hose  from  the 
fire  tug,  and  a  lot  of  engine-room  tools  wherever  he 
can  get  them.  As  for  life  preservers,  he  rents  them 
for  ten  cents  each  from  a  marine  junk  dealer.  So, 
when  the  inspectors  arrive,  the  Penelope  is  a  well- 
found  ship ;  as  soon  as  they  pass  her  the  skipper  returns 
the  equipment,  with  thanks.  As  for  paint — why,  the 
only  painting  she  ever  gets  is  when  Hudner  lays  her 
alongside  some  British  ship  to  discharge  a  foreign  cargo 
of  lumber  into  the  lime-juicer;  then  her  mate  steals  all 
the  paint  in  the  Britisher's  lazaret.  The  poor,  unfor 
tunate  devil !  He  has  to  do  something  to  make  a  show 
ing  with  the  Penelope's  owner!  I  tell  you,  Matt,  I 


324  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

know  this  man  Hudner!  He's  as  thrifty  as  an  Ar 
menian  and  as  slippery  as  a  skating  rink.  He's  lay 
ing  to  stab  you,  boy.  Mind  your  step!" 

"Even  so,  Gappy,  she's  a  bargain.  I  expect  to  spend 
fifty  thousand  dollars  putting  her  in  first-class  condi 
tion  after  we  get  her." 

"You  expect  to  spend  it!  Why,  how  you  talk! 
Hudner  is  the  one  that  should  spend  that  money.  For 
the  love  of  trade,  what  is  he  selling  you?  A  ship  or  a 
hulk?" 

"I  don't  care  what  she  is ;  we  can  make  her  pay  for 
herself  and  earn  half  a  million  or  a  million  extra  before 
this  war  ends.    And  she  won't  be  such  a  bad  vessel  after 
she's  shipped  a  couple  of  new  plates.     She  has  a  dead 
weight  capacity  for  six  thousand  tons  and  was  built 
at   Sunderland  in   1902.     When  she  went   ashore  off 
Point    Sur,   in    1909,    Hudner   bought    her   from    the 
underwriters  for  five  thousand  dollars  and  spent  more 
than  half  her  original  cost  repairing  her.     That,  of 
course,  made  her  tantamount  to   a  ship  built  in  the 
United  States,  and  under  American  registry  she  cai 
run  between   American   ports.      And   that's   what  w( 
want.     She'll  be  just  the  thing  to  carry  lumber  to  Nei 
York,  via  the  Canal,  when  the  war  ends  and  the  nitral 
harvest  is  over." 

Cappy  Ricks  threw  up  his  hands. 

"You  see  before  you,  my  boy,"  he  said  mournfully, 
"a  dollar-burdened,  world-weary  old  man,  who  for  ten 
years  has  been  trying  to  retire  from  active  business, 
and  cannot.  The  reason  is  he  dassent ;  if  he  dassed,  this 
shebang  would  be  in  the  hands  of  the  sheriff  within  a 
year.  Now,  listen,  young  feller !  I  know  all  about  th< 
Penelope.  Before  the  war  she  had  repaid  Hudner, 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

with  interest,  every  cent  she  cost  him,  and  since  the  war 
I  suppose  she's  made  half  a  million  dollars.  Now  when 
Hudner  finds  he  has  to  spend  a  lot  of  money  fixing  her 
up,  he  figures  it's  best  to  get  rid  of  her  and  saddle 
somebody  else  with  the  bill.  Her  intrinsic  value  is  just 
about  one  hundred  and  twenty-five  thousand  dollars, 
and  when  Hudner  asks  half  a  million  for  her  he  expects 
to  get  four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand.  In  order  to 
play  safe,  go  back  and  offer  him  four  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars ;  presently  he'll  come  down  fifty  thousand 
and  you'll  come  up  fifty  thousand,  and  the  trade  will 
be  closed  on  that  basis.  Meantime  I'll  sit  here  and  weep 
as  I  reflect  on  the  cost  of  putting  that  ruin  in  fit 
shape  to  receive  a  Blue  Star  house  flag.  I  tell  you, 
Matt,  I  wouldn't  send  Pancho  Villa  to  sea  in  her  as  she 
is  now." 

Matt  Peasley,  like  Cappy  Ricks,  was  a  Yankee;  when 
he  did  business  he  liked  to  chaffer;  and,  after  all — 
he  thought — there  was  a  certain  shrewd  philosophy  in 
what  his  foxy  father-in-law  had  said.  At  least  Cappy 
had  supplied  him  with  ammunition  for  argument;  so 
he  went  back  to  Hudner's  office  and  argued  and  pleaded 
and  ridiculed,  but  all  to  no  avail.  He  returned  to 
Cappy  Ricks'  office. 

"I  fought  him  all  over  his  office,"  he  complained,  "but 
he  wouldn't  come  down  a  cent.  I  think  we'd  better  take 
a  chance  and  give  him  half  a  million." 

"Fiddlesticks!  Stay  with  him,  Matt.  I  know 
Hudner.  He  acts  like  he's  full  of  bellicose  veins,  but 
anybody  can  outgame  him.  Let  your  option  expire; 
then  to-morrow  meet  him  accidentally  on  'Change  and 
talk  with  him  half  an  hour  about  everything  on  earth 
except  the  S.  S.  Penelope.  Just  before  you  leave  him 


326  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

he'll  grab  you  by  the  lapel  of  your  coat  and  ask  iJ 
you're  still  interested  in  the  Penelope.  Then  you  say; 
'Why,  yes — moderately;  but  not  at  half  a  million.5 
Then  you  make  him  a  firm  offer — for  the  last  time 
of  four  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars ;  and  he' 
say:  'I'll  split  the  difference  with  you' — and  before  he 
can  crawfish  you  accept.  You're  bound  to  make  al 
least  twenty-five  thousand  by  following  my  advice, 
Matt." 

Matt  Peasley  ran  his  big  hand  through  his  thi< 
black  locks. 

"By  jingo,"  he  declared,  "we'd  make  twenty-five 
thousand  dollars  while  we're  dickering  with  Hudner!' 
"I  know,  my  boy;  but  then  I  don't  like  Hudner, 
and  it's  awful  to  do  business  with  a  son  of  a  horsethiei 
you  don't  like  and  let  him  put  one  over  on  you.  That's 
the  thrill  of  doing  business,  Matt.  Though  I'd  hate 
to  have  anybody  think  I'm  in  business  for  fun,  still, 
if  I  thought  I  couldn't  get  some  fun  out  of  business 
I'd  go  right  down  to  Mission  Street  Wharf  and  end 
all." 

"Nitrate  freights  are  up  to  thirty  dollars  a  ton," 
said  Matt  later  that  day.  "They  were  twelve  a  year 
and  a  half  ago.  Gappy,  we  can't  risk  the  delay;  and 
I'm  sorry  I  took  your  advice  and  let  my  option  expire. 
I  insist  on  buying."  He  reached  for  Cappy's  desk 
'phone.  "I'm  going  to  tell  Hudner  to  prepare  the  bill 
of  sale — that  I'll  be  up  in  fifteen  minutes  with  the 

check.     He  who  hesitates  is  lost,  and " 

The  door  opened  and  a  youth  stood  in  the  entrance. 
"Mr.  J.  O.  Heyfuss  is  calling,"  he  announced. 
"Show  him   in  immediately,"   Cappy   ordered,  glad 
of  the  opportunity  to  delay  Matt's  telephonic  accept- 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  327 

ance  of  the  vessel  at  Hudner's  price.  "Hold  on  a 
minute,  Matt,"  he  continued,  turning  to  his  son-in-law. 
"Heyfuss  is  a  ship  broker;  maybe  he  has  a  ship  to 
sell  us;  she  might  prove  to  be  a  better  buy  than  the 
Penelope  .  .  .  Howdy,  Heyfuss?  Come  in  and  sit 
down." 

Mr.  Heyfuss  entered  smilingly,  saluted  both  satellites 
of  the  Blue  Star  and  sat  down. 

"Well,  gentlemen,"  he  announced,  "wonders  will  never 
cease.  Every  day  Fm  seeing,  hearing  and  doing  won 
derful  things  in  the  shipping  business.  Day  before 
yesterday  I  bought  the  old  barkentine  Mayfair.  She'd 
been  laid  up  in  Rotten  Row  for  seven  years,  and  for 
at  least  four  years  the  tide  has  been  rising  and  falling 
inside  her.  She  cost  me  seven  hundred  and  fifty  dollars, 
and  I  sold  her  the  same  afternoon  to  Al  Hanify  for  a 
thousand.  Not  very  much  of  a  profit;  but  then  it 
was  Saturday  and  everybody  closes  up  shop  at  noon, 
you  know.  So  I  felt  the  day  wasn't  a  blank,  anyhow. 

"And  what  do  you  suppose  Al  did?  You'll  laugh. 
He  called  up  Crowley  &  Son  and  got  Tom  Crowley  on 
the  line.  At  first  Tom  wouldn't  listen  to  him;  but 
when  Al  told  him  the  May/fair  had  good  oak  ribs  still 
left  in  her  carcass  Tommy  said  he'd  take  a  chance, 
and  bought  her,  sight  unseen,  for  fifteen  hundred 
dollars.  The  next  morning,  being  Sunday,  Tommy  had 
nothing  particular  to  do;  so  he  took  Live  Wire  Luiz, 
af  the  West  Coast  Trading  Company,  over  to  the 
Boneyard  and  showed  him  the  prize  lying  on  her  beam 
£nds  in  the  mud.  That  little  Peruvian  parrakeet  ac 
tually  paid  Tommy  two  thousand  dollars  for  her; 
ind  now  Live  Wire  Luiz  and  J.  Augustus  Redell,  his 
oartner  in  the  West  Coast  Trading  Company,  have 


328 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


her  out  on  Hanlon's  Marine  Way,  putting  a  new  bottoi 
in  her.     They're  going  to  spend  twenty  thousand  do] 
lars  on  her;  and  when  she's  ready  for  sea  Redeil  has 
cargo  of  fir  for  Sydney  waiting  for  her. 

"She'll  come  back  with  coal  and  make  her  owners 
least  fifty  thousand  dollars." 

"That's  all  very  interesting  to  outsiders,  but  coi 
monplace   stuff   to   us,"   Gappy   reminded   his   visitoi 
"Have  you  got  a  commission  to  sell  a  ship  for  some 
body?" 

"Want  one?" 

"Surest  thing  you  know !" 

"All  right.     I'll  sell  you  the  Alden  Besse.     She's  ai 
old  tea  clipper,  built  in  the  forties ;  but  she's  sound  ai 
tight.     Been  a  motion  picture  ship  for  the  past  fr 
years.     I  can  deliver  her  to  you  for  forty  thousai 
dollars." 

"No,  you'll  not.     I  sold  her  to  the  motion  pictui 
people  for  fifteen  hundred,"   Gappy   countered,   ( 
I  don't  want  her  back  at  any  price.     I  send  my  boys 
to  sea  to  earn  a  safe  living,  not  to  visit  Davy  Jon< 
locker." 

"Well,  I  think  I  might  get  you  the  old  Australia 
prison  ship,  Success.  She  was  built  at  Rangoon 
1790,  of  teak,  and  will  last  forever.  Perhaps  you  saw 
her  when  she  was  exhibited  at  the  Exposition  last  year. 
Might  get  her  for  you  kind  of  cheap." 

"Nothing  doing.     Heyfuss,  we  want  a  steamer." 

"Sorry,  but  I  haven't  a  thing  in  steamers.    Just  sold 
the  last  one  I  had  ten  minutes  ago — the  Penelope." 

"The   what!"   Matt    Peasley    and    Gappy    cried   in 
chorus. 

"The  Penelope.     Sold  her  to  a  big  Eastern  powder 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  329 

company.  She  goes  into  the  nitrate  trade,  of  course. 
These  munition  manufacturers  must  have  powder,  and 
to  get  powder  they  must  have  nitrate,  and  to  get  nitrate 
they  must  have  ships,  and  to  get  ships  they  must  pay 
the  price.  I  got  Hudner  a  million  dollars  for  that  ruin 
of  a  Penelope" 

Matt  Peasley  gently  seized  J.  O.  Heyfuss  by  the  ear 
and  led  him  to  the  door. 

"Out,  thief!"  he  cried.  "You  can't  sell  us  anything; 
so  we  don't  want  you  hanging  round  this  office.  You 
might  steal  the  safe  or  a  roll-top  desk,  or  something." 

Heyfuss  departed,  laughing  good-naturedly,  and 
Matt  Peasley  turned  to  confront  Cappy  Ricks.  The 
latter  had  shrunk  up  in  his  chair  and  was  looking  as 
chopf alien  and  guilty  as  a  dog  caught  sucking  eggs. 
He  favored  his  big  son-in-law  with  a  quick,  shifty 
glance,  and  then  looked  down  at  the  carpet. 

Matt  folded  his  arms  and  stared  at  him  until  he 
looked  up. 

"Don't  you  go  to  pick  on  me !"  he  warned  Matt  furi 
ously.  "I'll  not  be  picked  on  in  my  own  office,  even 
by  a  relative." 

Matt  threw  back  his  head  and  chanted, 

"There  was  I,  waiting  at  the  church, 
Waiting  at  the  church " 

"I  was  right!"  Cappy  shrilled.  "My  mode  of  pro 
cedure  was  without  a  flaw." 

"Absolutely!  The  operation  was  a  success,  but 
the  patient  died." 

"But  a  feller  just  has  to  haggle!"  Cappy  wailed. 
He  was  almost  on  the  verge  of  tears.  "It's  the  basic 


330 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


principle  of  all  trading.  Why,  I've  made  my  everlasting 
fortune  by  haggling.  Drat  your  picture,  don't  you 
know  that  the  very  pillars  of  financial  success  rest  on 
counter-propositions  ?" 

"Listen,  relative,  listen :  I  haven't  said  a  word  to  you, 
have  I?"  Matt  replied. 

"No ;  but  you  looked  it,  and  I'll  not  be  looked  at." 

"All  right,  Cappy,  I'll  not  look.  But  I  can't  help 
thinking." 

"Thinking  what?" 

"That  it's  about  time  you  quit  talking  about  retir 
ing — and  retired!" 


CHAPTER  XL VI 

With  this  Parthian  shot  Matt  himself  retired,  leav 
ing  Cappy  to  shiver  and  bow  his  head  on  his  breast; 
in  which  position  he  remained  motionless  for  fully  an 
hour. 

"I  guess  the  boy's  right,"  he  soliloquized  finally.  "I 
think  I'd  better  retire,  after  pulling  that  kind  of  a 
deal  twice  in  the  same  place.  The  pace  is  getting  too 
swift  for  me,  I  think;  I  can't  keep  up  ...  Well,  I 
guess  they've  got  the  goods  on  me  this  time.  Matt  was 
certainly  on  the  job  twice,  and  I  blocked  him  both  times 
.  .  .  Oh,  Lord !  I'll  never  hear  the  last  of  this  .  .  . 
By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  I've  lost  my  punch! 
Matt  didn't  say  so;  but  he  thinks  it.  And  I  don't 
blame  him  a  bit." 

The  door  of  Cappy's  office  opened  and  again  the 
youth  stood  in  the  entrance.  "Mr.  Redell  is  calling; 
there's  a  gentleman  with  him,"  he  announced. 

"Tell  'em  I'm  busier'n  a  cranberry  merchant,"  Cappy 
snarled.  "And  unless  you're  figuring  on  hunting  a  new 
job,  my  son,  don't  you  come  in  here  again  today." 

The  youth  retired.  However,  he  knew  from  experience 
that  Cappy  Ricks  never  discharged  anybody  save  for 
insubordination  or  rank  incompetence ;  hence,  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  disobey  the  old  gentleman's  edict. 

"Mr.  Redell  says  his  business  is  very  important," 
he  announced,  presenting  himself  once  more  at  the  door. 

"All  right !  No  rest  for  the  weary.  Show  them  in." 

331 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

J.  Augustus  Redell  entered,  accompanied  by  no 
less  a  personage  than  the  British  Consul.  Cappy 
greeted  them  without  enthusiasm  and  bade  them  be 
seated. 

"Well,"  J.  Augustus  Redell  announced  cheerily,  "It's 
plain  to  be  seen  that  Little  Sunshine  hasn't  been  round 
this  office  recently." 

Cappy  grunted. 

"What's  gone  wrong,  Cappy?" 

"Everything!  Been  going  wrong  for  years  and  I 
never  realized  it  until  this  afternoon.  Ah,  Gus,  my  dear 
young  friend,  how  I  envy  you  your  youth,  your  cap 
acity  to  think,  your  golden  dreams,  your  boundless 
energy,  your  ability  to  make  two-dollar  bills  grow  where 
one-dollar  bills  grew  before,  thus  making  an  apparently 
barren  prospect  as  verdant  as  a  meadow  in  spring. 
But  make  the  most  of  your  opportunity,  young  feller! 
The  day  will  come  to  you,  as  it  has  come  to  me,  when 
everything  you  do  will  be  done  twenty  minutes  too  late ; 
when  every  dollar  you  make  will  be  subject  to  a  cash 
discount  of  one  hundred  per  cent ;  when  every  competi 
tor  you  held  cheap  will  suddenly  develop  the  luck  of  the 
devil,  the  brains  of  a  Demosthenes,  and  the  courage  of  a 
hog  going  to  war." 

"I  should  judge  that  you  have  recently  suffered  a 
great  bereavement." 

"I  have,  Augustus,  I  have.  Through  my  indecision 
I  have  just  lost  a  bank  roll  a  greyhound  couldn't 
have  jumped  over.  Suppose  it  was  a  paper  profit?  I 
grieve  just  the  same." 

"Forget  it,  Cappy !  Life  is  real,  life  is  earnest,  and 
you  have  a  bank  roll  of  real  profits  a  giraffe  couldn't 
reach  the  top  of." 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  333 

"Oh,  it  isn't  the  money,  Gus.  Money  is  only  a  vulgar 
symbol  of  my  bereavement.  The  trouble  is — I've  lost 
my  punch !  I  can't  think,  Gus ;  I  can't  act  promptly. 
I'm  out  of  touch  with  my  times.  I  remind  myself  of 
nothing  so  much  as  the  old  rooster  that  suddenly  dis 
covered  he  had  been  elected  to  furnish  the  dinner  the 
following  Sunday.  His  hens  cackled  and  called  to 
him  that  they  had  found  some  worms,  but  he  wouldn't 
pay  any  attention  to  them;  just  leaned  up  against  the 
wire  netting  in  the  poultry  yard  and  said  to  himself: 
'Oh,  hell!  What's  the  use?  Today  an  egg — tomorrow 
a  feather  duster!'" 

"Don't  be  pessimistic,  Cappy.  Don't!  It  doesn't 
become  you,  and  I  don't  believe  a  word  you're  telling 
me.  You're  still  the  old  he-fox  of  the  world;  and  I've 
come  to  you  for  help  on  a  deal  that's  going  to  mean  a 
whole  lot  of  money  to  both  of  us  if  we  can  only  put  it 
through." 

"I'm  sorry,  Gus,  but  I'm  not  interested.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  I've  retired." 

"Nonsense!  Nonsense!  I  know  where  there's  a 
beautiful  ten-thousand-ton,  net  register,  steel  steamer 
to  be  bought  for  three  hundred  thousand  dollars " 

Cappy  Ricks  threw  out  an  arm  and  pressed  his  hand 
against  Redell's  mouth. 

"Sh-h-h !"  he  warned.    "Sh-h-h!    Hush!" 

With  the  agility  of  a  man  half  his  age  Cappy  ran 
to  the  door,  bolted  it  on  the  inside  and  returned  to  his 
desk.  He  was  rubbing  his  hands  and  his  eyes  were 
aglow  with  interest. 

"W'hat  are  you  sh-h-h-ing  about?"  Redell  demanded. 

"Matt  Peasley  and  that  cowardly  Skinner.  Not  a 
word  of  this  to  them,  Gus  !  Not — a — whisper !"  And 


334  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

he  winked  one  eye  and  twisted  up  the  corner  of  his 
mouth  knowingly.  Mr.  Redell  nodded  his  promise  and 
Gappy  went  on:  "Now  Gus,  my  dear  young  friend, 
start  in  at  the  beginning  and  tell  me  everything.  I 
assume,  of  course,  that  this  is  real  business  and  not 
another  of  your  jokes  on  the  old  man.  Word  of  honor, 
Gus?" 

"Word  of  honor,  Gappy." 

"All  right ;  blaze  away !  Come,  come !  What  have  you 
got  to  offer?" 

"I  have  a  condition  and  I  offer  you  a  half  interest 
in  it  if  you  can  suggest  a  plan  to  circumvent  His 
Royal  Highness,  Kaiser  WTilhelm " 

"Hum-m-m!  Enough!"  Cappy  interrupted,  and 
turned  to  the  British  Consul :  "This  is  an  international 
affair,  eh?  See  if  I  don't  state  the  proposition  in  a 
nutshell — if  I  may  be  pardoned  the  bromide.  This 
steamer  is  a  German,  and  the  proposition  is  to  get  her 
under  the  American  flag  so  firmly  that  she'll  stay  there ; 
then,  I  suppose,  we're  to  charter  her  to  the  British  Gov 
ernment,  or  one  of  Britain's  allies — Russia,  for  in 
stance." 

J.  Augustus  Redell  and  the  British  Consul  exchanged 
admiring  winks. 

"What  did  I  tell  you,  Mister  Consul?"  Redell  de 
clared  triumphantly.  "Mr.  Ricks  knows  the  story  be 
fore  we  have  told  it.  And  yet  he's  complaining  about 
the  loss  of  his  punch!" 

Cappy  looked  slightly  self-conscious ;  it  was  plain  the 
compliment  pleased  him. 

"Well,  Gus,  my  boy,"  he  answered,  "I  have  lost  my 
punch,  though  at  that  I'm  not  exactly  a  pork-and- 
beaner.  Hum-m-m!  Ahem!  Harumph-h-h !  This 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  335 

must  be  a  hard  order  to  fill,  Mister  Consul,  when  Gus 
Redell  has  to  come  to  me  for  help.  That  son  of  a 
gun  can  move  faster  and  go  through  more  obstacles 
than  quicksilver.  Gus,  what's  gone  wrong  with  you? 
Have  you  lost  your  punch  too?  And  at  your  age?" 

"Looks  like  it,  Cappy.  I've  thought  and  thought 
until  I'm  desperate,  and  not  an  idea  worth  while  has 
presented  itself.  That's  why  I've  come  to  you." 

"Well,  I  don't  guarantee  a  cure,  my  boy.  But  I'll 
say  this  much :  If  you  and  I  can't  put  this  thing  over, 
then  it  just  isn't  put-overable.  Fire  away,  Gus !" 

"Have  you  ever  heard  of  the  steamer  Bavarian?'9 

"Of  course !  She  belongs  to  Adolph  Koenitz  and 
flies  the  German  flag.  Since  the  war  started  she's 
been  interned  down  in  Mission  Bay." 

Redell  nodded. 

"Adolph  Koenitz  never  became  an  American  citizen, 
despite  the  fact  that  he  had  lived  in  San  Francisco 
twenty  years  and  operated  three  steamers  out  of  this 
port.  He  was  a  reserve  officer  in  the  German  Navy; 
and  when  the  war  broke  out  he  interned  his  ships, 
placed  his  entire  estate  in  his  wife's  name  and  reported 
for  duty.  He  perished  in  the  Battle  of  Jutland,  both 
his  boys  were  killed  at  Verdun,  and  now  his  widow 
would  like  to  sell  the  Bavarian  and  get  some  cash. 
She  had  a  large  income  from  an  estate  in  Germany, 
but  the  war  cut  that  off. 

"Also,  it  appears  that  Koenitz  was  rather  heavily 
involved,  and  the  expense  of  maintaining  those  in 
terned  steamers,  with  their  German  crews  aboard,  has 
his  widow  badly  worried ;  in  fact,  she  has  reached  the 
point  where  she  finds  it  necessary  to  sell  one  of  the 
steamers  in  order  to  hang  on  to  the  other  two.  She 


336  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

has  tried  to  raise  a  mortgage  on  the  Bavarian,  but 
nobody  cares  to .  loan  money  on  an  interned  German 
steamer." 

"Naturally,"  Cappy  replied  sarcastically.  "And 
I'm  amazed  that  you  should  consider  me  boob  enough 
to  consider  seriously  buying  the  same  steamer  outright ! 
Gus,  I'd  have  about  as  much  use  for  that  steamer  as 
I  would  have  for  a  tail.  Even  if  I  should  buy  her 
now,  and  not  use  her  until  the  war  is  over,  I  should 
be  risking  my  money ;  for  the  German  Government,  if 
you  remember,  issued  an  order  in  1915  forbidding  its 
subjects  to  sell  their  interned  ships  without  the  con 
sent  of  the  said  government.  And,  even  if  Mrs.  Koenitz 
can  procure  the  Kaiser's  consent,  I  fail  to  see  the 
wisdom  of  tying  up  three  hundred  thousand  dollars 
in  an  idle  investment." 

"Ah,  but  under  those  circumstances  she  wouldn't 
be  an  idle  investment." 

"Yes,  she  would,  my  boy.  Great  Britain  issued 
an  Order  in  Council  in  1914  notifying  all  neutral  na 
tions  that  she  would  not  sanction  the  transfer  of 
registry  of  any  German  vessel.  A  few  daring  devils 
took  a  chance — and  what  happened?  The  British 
Navy  overhauled  the  ships  at  sea  and  took  them  into 
a  British  port  where  a  British  prize  court  confiscated 
them.  There  is  the  case  of  the  Mazatlan,  for  instance. 
She  was  German  owned  and  flew  the  German  flag;  her 
owner  put  her  under  the  Mexican  flag,  and  subsequent 
ly  she  was  sold  at  a  bargain  to  one  of  our  neighbors, 
who  put  her  under  American  registry.  Do  you  know 
where  the  Mazatlan  is  now?  Well,  I'll  tell  you:  She's 
freighting  war  munitions  for  Johnny  Bull — and  our 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  337 

optimistic  neighbor  isn't  collecting  the  freight  money 
either." 

"Quite  true,  Mr.  Ricks ;  quite  true — in  ordinary 
cases,"  the  Consul  told  him  smilingly. 

"By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet !  I  smell  a  mouse. 
Hum-m-m!  That  simplifies  matters.  We-1-1!  If  you 
are  in  position,  Mister  Consul,  to  give  me  your  word 
of  honor  as  a  gentleman  and  an  officer  of  your  king 
that  the  British  Navy  will  turn  its  blind  side  to  the 
Bavarian  when  she  puts  to  sea,  I'll  buy  irhe  Bavarian 
so  fast  it'll  make  your  head  swim.  In  return  for  this 
favor,  of  course,  I  am  to  charter  the  ship  at  the  going 
rates  to " 

"Our  ally,  the  Russian  Government,  Mr.  Ricks.  And 
you  have  my  word  of  honor,  which  is  all  I  can  give 
you ;  for  a  deal  like  this,  as  you  know,  cannot  be  made 
in  writing.  I  have  had  the  matter  up  with  the  Ad 
miralty,  however,  and  permission  has  been  granted  me 
to  give  the  verbal  assurance  of  my  government." 

"I'll  make  a  finger  bet  with  your  government,  Mister 
Consul.  As  for  Kaiser  Bill's  consent  to  the  transfer — 
heraus  mit  'em!  We'll  get  along  without  that.  Wil- 
helm  doesn't  cut  much  ice  with  me  these  days  and  I'm 
willing  to  wager  the  price  of  the  Bavarian  that  such 
ice  as  he  does  cut  will  blame  soon  melt.  Gus,  you  say 
Mrs.  Koenitz  wants  to  sell?" 

"Yes." 

"And  she  doesn't  care  who  buys?" 

"Not  a  particle!  She's  sore  on  the  Kaiser;  it's  been 
thumbs  down  on  Wilhelm  ever  since  Adolph  and  the 
boys  lost  the  number  of  their  mess.  She  says  to  me: 
*Herr  Riddle,  dot  Kaiser  orders  war  like  I  order  beer !' 
However,  there's  an  'if  to  the  transfer.  While  we 


338 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


know  the  British  Navy  will  not  bother  us  should  W( 
buy  the  steamer,  still  enthusiastic  Britishers  all  ovei 
the  world  will  have  their  eyes   on  the  Bavarian   and 
clamor  for  her  capture.    Great  Britain  cannot  publicl; 
— or,  at  least,  obviously — make  any  exceptions  to  hei 
Order   in   Council,    and   we'll   have   to    mess   up    thai 
steamer's  title  and  nativity  to  save  John  Bull's  social 
standing.     We  must  make   a  bluff  at  deceiving  him. 
If  we  can  show  some  sort  of  legal  transfer  to  another 
flag  J.  B.  can  play  blindman's  buff  with  dignity  anc 
honor;  otherwise  nix!" 

Cappy  Ricks'  eyes  sought  the  ceiling. 

"What  have  I  done  to  deserve  this?"  he  demand* 
of  an  invisible  Presence.  "Why  am  I  afflicted  thus? 
Job  had  his  boils ;  but  you  and  I,  Augustus,  are  cov 
ered  with  a  financial  rash,  bleeding  at  every  pore,  and 
with  no  relief  in  sight." 

"I  told  you  this  was  a  tough  one,  Cappy.  I've 
pondered  the  situation  until  my  brain  is  addled  like  a 
last  year's  nest  egg,  and  finally  I've  come  to  you  as 
a  last  resort.  If  you  can't  cook  up  an  airtight  scheme, 
then  there  is  no  help;  and  I'm  going  to  forget  th< 
Bavarian  and  attend  to  some  business  more  profitabl 
and  less  debilitating." 

"There  must  be  an  out,  Gus.  It's  too  good  a  thing 
to  abandon.  Suppose  you  and  the  Consul  go  away 
and  give  me  time  to  concentrate  my  thoughts  on  this 

problem.     It's  a  holy  terror;  but Well,  I've  seen 

dogs  almost  as  sick  as  this  one  cured." 

"God  bless  you!"  Mr.  Redell  murmured  fervently. 
"Consul,  let  us  depart  and  leave  Mr.  Ricks  to  himself. 
Call  me  up,  Cappy,  when  you  see  a  ray  of  light.  Two 
heads  are  better  than  one,  you  know." 


CHAPTER  XLVII 

When  his  visitors  had  gone  Cappy  Ricks  gave  orders 
that  he  was  not  to  be  disturbed  on  any  pretext  what 
ever.  Then  he  locked  himself  in,  swung  his  legs  to  the 
top  of  his  desk,  slid  low  in  his  chair  until  he  rested  on 
his  spine,  bowed  his  head  on  his  breast  and  closed  his 
eyes.  The  battle  was  on. 

One  hour  later  J.  Augustus  Redell  entered  breath 
lessly  in  response  to  a  telephonic  invitation  from 
Cappy. 

"Gus,"  the  latter  began,  "am  I  right  in  assuming 
that  you  possess  a  reasonable  amount  of  influence  with 
that  hair-trigger  partner  of  yours,  Live  Wire  Luiz?" 
Redell  nodded.  "And  is  Luiz  absolutely  trustworthy? 
Will  he  stay  put  and  keep  his  mouth  closed?" 

"He  is  my  partner,  Cappy.  He's  mercurial,  but  a 
gentleman.  I'd  trust  him  with  my  life,  and  I  always 
trust  him  with  my  bank  roll.  He  requires  no  watch 
ing." 

"Good !  Gus,  send  Live  Wire  Luiz  down  to  Guaymas 
and  have  him  incorporate  the  North  and  South  Ameri 
can  Steamship  Company  there,  under  the  extremely 
flexible  and  evershifting  laws  of  the  Republic  of  Mexico. 
Luiz  is  a  Peruvian  and  speaks  Spanish,  and  knows  the 
Mexican  temperament.  He  can  easily  procure  three 
Mexicans  to  act  as  a  dummy  board  of  directors ;  his 
own  name,  of  course,  for  obvious  reasons,  must  never 

339 


640  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

appear  in  connection  with  this  company.     A  thousan< 
dollars  ought  to  cover  this  Mexican  expense." 

"Consider  that  point  attended  to,  Cappy." 

"Fine!  Now  then,  when  this  corporate  vehicle 
in  running  order  and  has  opened  an  office  in  Guaymas 
Live  Wire  Luiz  will  write  your  company,  The  West 
Coast  Trading  Company,  saying  that  his  company  hi 
been  referred  to  you  by  some  mutual  friends  in  Gu 
mas.  Of  course  Luiz  doesn't  sign  this  letter.  It 
signed  by  the  North  and  South  American  Steamshi] 
Company,  per  the  dummy  secretary  or  president.  T] 
letter  goes  on  to  say  that  the  latter  company  is  in 
the  market  for  a  steamer,  the  general  specifications 
of  which,  singularly  enough,  fit  the  Bavarian.  The 
vessel  is  to  be  used  for  transporting  troops  up  and 
down  the  west  coast  of  Mexico  and  for  freighting 
munitions  from  Japan ;  and  in  a  delicate  way  it  might 
be  hinted  that  the  de  facto  Mexican  Government  is  the 
real  buyer.  A  commission  of  five  per  cent  is  offered 
you  for  buying  the  vessel  for  them,  said  commission 
to  be  split  fifty-fifty  with  the  North  and  South  Ameri 
can  Steamship  Company ;  this  being  the  Mexican  way 
of  doing  business,  as  you  know." 

"Consider  that  matter  attended  to  also.  I'll  write 
the  letter  myself  before  Luiz  starts  for  Guaymas,  so 
I'll  be  certain  the  job  will  be  done  exactly  right." 

"As  soon  as  you  receive  this  letter  you  get  bus}7  and 
wire  the  North  and  South  American  Steamship  Com 
pany  that  you  have  just  the  vessel  they  want,  price 
three  hundred  thousand  dollars.  Live  Wire  Luiz  will 
then  cause  a  reply  to  that  telegram  to  be  sent,  advising 
you  that  his  clients  would  not  balk  at  paying  half  a. 
million!  That,  of  course,  is  hint  enough  for  you. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  841 

Right  away  you  see  the  old  Mexican  graft  sticking 
out,  and  you  say  to  yourself,  'Why  not?*  And  you 
do!  You  reply  to  that  telegram,  saying  you  erred 
when  naming  the  price  in  your  first  telegram ;  that  it  is 
five  hundred  thousand  instead  of  three.  Then  you 
come  down  to  me  and  I  hand  you  three  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars  in  currency;  for  in  such  a  transaction  as 
this,  checks,  with  their  indorsements,  provide  a  trail 
that  may  prove  embarrassing.  You  take  that  money 
and  deposit  it  in  escrow  in  any  local  bank  against  a 
bill  of  sale  of  the  Bavarian  from  Mrs.  Koenitz  to  the 
North  and  South  American  Steamship  Company,  of 
Guaymas,  Mexico.  Before  doing  so,  however,  have 
Mrs.  Koenitz  place  the  vessel  under  Mexican  registry. 
She  can  do  that  through  the  Mexican  Consul  for  the 
de. facto  government ;  and  when  the  bill  of  sale  is  turned 
over  to  you,  record  it  promptly  with  the  Mexican 
Consul.  Later  you  will  record  it  in  Mexico. 

"The  vessel  is  now  the  property  of  the  North  and 
South  American  Steamship  Company;  and  the  North 
and  South  American  Steamship  Company  is  the  prop 
erty  of  Cappy  Ricks  and  the  West  Coast  Trading 
Company,  per  Senor  Felipe  Luiz  Almeida.  But  we 
must  never  admit  this.  To  have  the  North  and  South 
American  Steamship  Company  transfer  the  vessel  to  us 
would  be  very  coarse  work  indeed;  so  we  must  avoid 
that." 

"How?" 

"I'll  get  to  that  presently.  The  steamer  is  now  in 
our  possession,  and  you  will  already  have  notified- her 
German  skipper  and  crew  to  hunt  a  new  residence. 
!You  will  then  put  an  American  skipper  in  charge 
and  ship  American  engineers  and  a  crew  of  parrakeets ; 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

and  on  the  very  day  the  sale  is  consummated,  just  be 
fore  the  customhouse  closes,  have  the  skipper  clear  the 
vessel  for  Guaymas  and  put  to  sea  that  night.  Since 
she  carries  no  cargo  the  collector  of  the  port  will  not 
stop  you ;  the  risk  of  going  to  sea  is  all  our  own — if  we 
care  to  take  it. 

"The  next  day  the  newspaper  boys  will  be  hot  on 
the  trail.  An  interned  German  merchantman  has  sud 
denly  transferred  to  Mexican  registry  and  put  to  sea! 
Now !  Inquiry  at  the  customhouse  and  at  the  Mexican 
consulate  shows  that  the  vessel  has  been  sold,  and  the 
trail  leads  straight  to  the  office  of  the  West  Coast 
Trading  Company.  You  are  interviewed — and  say 
nothing;  and  that  day,  when  I  appear  on  'Change, 
these  baffled  journalists  drive  me  into  a  corner  and  ask 
me  what  I  think  about  it.  And  I'll  tell  them  it's  just 
another  case  of  the  lowly  Mexican  peon  being  horn- 
swoggled  by  the  foxy  Americano.  The  Mexicans 
wanted  a  ship  and  asked  the  American  to  buy  one  for 
them.  He  did — only  he  forgot  to  tell  them  she  was  a 
German.  She  was  such  a  good  buy  they  snapped  her 
up  without  asking  questions,  though  in  all  probability 
the  poor  devils  had  no  knowledge  of  Kaiser  Wilhelm's 
edict  that  no  German  ships  shall  be  sold  without  the 
consent  of  the  German  Government.  I  will  say  that 
it  looks  to  me  as  if  the  ancient  rule  of  caveat  emptor 
applied,  and  that  the  Mexicans  are  stung  and  have 
no  comeback.  Then,  again,  it  may  be  a  shrewd  German 
trick  to  put  something  over. 

"Well,  they  make  a  snorting  story  out  of  what  I 
give  them;  the  frau's  friends  read  it  and  think  she's 
done  something  smart.  Nobody  feels  sorry  for  a 
Mexican.  Next  morning  you  come  out  with  a  blast  of 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  343 

righteous  indignation  and  admit  that  you  cannot  or  will 
not  deny  that  the  vessel  was  sold  to  parties  represent 
ing  the  de  facto  Mexican  Government.  You  deny,  how 
ever,  that  you  sold  them  a  pig  in  a  poke ;  and  the  papers 
print  a  copy  of  your  letter  to  the  North  and  South 
American  Steamship  Company  specifically  advising 
them  that  the  vessel  was  a  German  and  liable  to  prove 
an  embarrassment.  This,  of  course,  clears  you,  and 
the  blame  for  the  graft  is  placed  where  it  belongs — on 
the  shoulders  of  the  North  and  South  American  Steam 
ship  Company,  which  has  deliberately  stung  the  de 
facto  government !'* 

"Cappy,"  said  J.  Augustus  Redell  admiringly, 
"you're  immense!" 

"I  accept  the  nomination.  Upon  her  arrival  in 
Gruaymas  the  Bavarian's  name  is  changed  to  La  Go- 
londrinOj  or  Sobre  las  Olas,  or  Mariana,  or  Poco 
Ti&mpo — whatever's  right.  I  think  we  may  safely 
gamble  that  she  will  arrive  in  Guaymas  in  the  light  of 
ivhat  the  British  Consul  told  us;  and,  in  view  of  her 
leparture  unannounced,  no  British  warship  on  the 
West  Coast  can  get  so  far  north  as  Guaymas  in  time 
:o  intercept  her. 

"Well,  having  changed  her  name,  she  picks  up  a 
general  cargo  and  comes  back  to  San  Francisco,  where 
>he  goes  on  dry  dock  and  is  cleaned  and  painted,  has 
ier  gear  overhauled,  fills  up  with  fuel  oil  and  stores, 
ind — but  that's  enough.  Now  comes  the  blow-off. 

"Strange  to  relate,  you  haven't  received  a  cent  of 
;hat  five-per-cent  commission  due  you  from  the  North 
ind  South  American  Steamship  Company  for  buying 
he  Bavarian  for  them.  The  issue  is  in  dispute.  They 
ilaim  you  are  not  entitled  to  any  commission,  because 


344  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

you  stung  them  with  a  German  vessel;  and  you  claim 
you  told  them  she  was  a  German,  but  that  they  needed 
her  so  badly  they  would  take  a  chance.  Also,  the  fact 
that  she  went  to  sea  that  time  in  such  a  hurry,  and 
forgot  to  pay  for  her  fuel  oil  and  stores,  looks  rather 
suspicious ;  so,  when  the  vessel  comes  off  dry  dock,  with 
about  ten  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  bills  against  her, 
you  decide  to  protect  your  claim  for  the  commission — 
and,  by  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  Gus,  you  libe1 
her!  The  news  breaks  into  the  papers,  and  next  day 
every  creditor  of  the  ship  files  a  libel  on  her,  also,  to 
protect  his  claim.  Gus,  she'll  have  so  many  plasters  on 
her  she'll  look  like  a  German  coming  home  from  the 
war." 

J.  Augustus  Redell  leaped  from  his  chair  and  picked 
little  Gappy  Ricks  up  in  his  arms  and  hugged  him. 

"Oh,  Cappy!  Cappy!"  he  yelled.  "You're  the 
shadow  of  a  rock  in  a  weary  land — a  cup  of  cool  water 
in  the  suburbs  of  hell!" 

"Are  you  game?"  Cappy  gurgled. 
"Does  a  cat  eat  liver?  Cappy,  you've  solved  the 
problem!  Naturally  the  North  and  South  American 
Steamship  Company  does  not  directly  or  indirectly 
make  any  attempt  to  lift  these  libels  and  get  the  vessel 
to  sea.  Why?  I'll  tell  you— or,  rather,  I'll  tell  the 
newspaper  boys  and  they'll  tell  everybody.  It  will 
appear  that  as  soon  as  the  Mexican  Consul  here  got  an 
inkling  of  the  apparent  plan  of  the  North  and  South 
American  Steamship  Company,  of  Guaymas,  to  sting 
Don  Venustiano  Carranza  by  slipping  him  a  steamer 
with  a  clouded  title,  he  must  have  wired  Don  Venustiano 
to  round  up  the  directors  of  the  said  company  and 
give  them  the  ley  fuga.  Fortunately  for  these  culprits, 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  345 


i  however,  they  got  next  in  time  to  get  out  from  under. 
Kvlounting  swift  steeds,  the  entire  board  of  directors 
| fled  north  and  east,  never  pausing  until  they  had  joined 
tPancho  Villa;  and  we  learn  from  some  Border  gossips 
fthat  all  three  subsequently  were  killed  in  action.     But, 
3efore  leaving  Guaymas,  they  left  their  tangled  steam 
ship  affairs  in  the  hands  of  their  attorney " 

"Nothing  doing,  Gus !  They  left  their  tangled 
steamship  affairs  in  the  hands  of  my  attorney,  and  they 
rave  him  an  absolute,  ironclad,  airtight  power  of  at 
torney  to  sell  the  ship,  receive  and  receipt  for  all  money 
lue  the  company,  and  so  on,  and  so  on,  ad  libitum,  ad 
infinitum;  said  power  of  attorney  being  nonrevocable 
for  five  years." 

"Great  stuff!  In  due  course  the  libelants  sue  in  the 
United  States  District  Court;  your  attorney  appears 
For  the  defendants  and  confesses  judgment,  but  pleads 
for  a  ten-day  stay  of  execution  until  he  can  raise  a 
mortgage  on  the  vessel.  But,  strange  to  relate,  the 
ten-day  stay  expires  and  the  judgments  against  the 
steamer  are  not  paid;  so  the  judge  of  the  United 
States  District  Court  orders  the  steamer  sold  at  public 
auction  on  the  floor  of  the  Merchants*  Exchange  to 
the  highest  bidder,  to  satisfy  the  claims  of  the  creditors. 
Thirty  days  later  the  United  States  Marshal  conducts 
:he  sale,  and  a  gentleman  named  Cappy  Ricks  buys 
icr  in.  The  United  States  Marshal  gives  the  said  Ricks 
i  bill  of  sale  for  her,  which  the  said  Ricks  thereupon 
records  in  the  United  States  Customhouse,  and " 

"Und  Hoch  der  Kaiser!  Und  Hoch  der  John  J. 
Bull !  We've  finally  got  that  clear  American  title  we've 
oeen  looking  for.  It  makes  no  difference  what  the  nation 
ality  of  a  vessel  is ;  the  minute  she  enters  the  territorial 


846  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

waters  of  the  United  States  of  America  she  is  amenable 
to  the  laws  of  the  United  States  of  America,  one  of 
which  reads  thusly :  'Thou  shalt  pay  thy  bills ;  and  if 
thou  dost  not,  then  poco  tiempo  thou  shalt  be  made  to 
pay  them,  even  unto  the  seizure  and  sale  of  thy  ship.' 
And  with  the  purchase  of  that  ship,  under  an  order  of 
sale  issued  by  the  United  States  District  Court,  she 
becomes  a  United  States  ship ;  we  register  her  as  such ; 
and  the  United  States  simply  has  to  stand  back  of  the 
bill  of  sale  it  gave  us.  Germany  knows  that ;  England 
knows  it;  Austria  knows  it;  and  from  the  jackstaff  of 
the  late  Bavarian,  now  renamed  the  Alden  M.  Peasley, 
in  honor  of  my  first  grandson,  there  floats " 

J.  Augustus  Redell  raised  his  index  finger,  enjoining 
silence : 

"Now  then !    One,  two,  three !    Down,  left,  up ! 

"0-ho,  say,  can  you  see,  by  the  dawn's  early  light, 
What  so-ho  pro-houdly   we   hailed   at   the   twilight's   last 
gleaming?" 

Cappy  Ricks  sprang  to  attention.  Presently, 
through  the  partition,  his  cracked  old  voice  reached 
Mr.  Skinner: 

"Then  conquer  we  must,  when  our  cause  is  so  just; 
And  this  be  our  motto:  'May  we  nev-er  go  bust!" 

"What's  doing  here?"  Mr.  Skinner  demanded,  bang 
ing  at  the  door,  which  was  locked. 

"Go  way  back  and  sit  down !"  Cappy  shrilled.  "I'll 
show  you  and  Matt  Peasley  where  to  head  in,  yet — see 
if  I  don't !» 


CHAPTER  XL VIII 

Cappy  Ricks  and  J.  Augustus  Redell  arrived  at  the 
Merchants'  Exchange  promptly  at  one  o'clock  on  the 
date  of  the  sale  of  the  S.  S.  General  Carranza,  as  the 
Bavarian  was  now  called.  Just  inside  the  door  they 
paused  and  looked  at  each  other. 

"Whe-e-e-ew !"  murmured  Cappy  Ricks.  "All  the 
shipping  men  in  the  world  are  here  to  bid  on  our  prop 
erty,  Gus." 

Mr.  Redell  whistled  softly.  "This,"  he  said,  "will 
be  some  auction !" 

Cappy  chuckled. 

"There  is  only  one  thing  that  a  shipping  man  in 
this  country  has  more  respect  for  than  an  Order  in 
Council — and  that  is  an  Order  in  the  United  States 
District  Court!" 

"Naturally.    It's  backed  up  by  our  army  and  navy." 

"By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  somebody's  sport 
ing  blood  is  going  to  be  tested  today;  and  something 
tells,  me,  Augustus,  my  dear  young  friend,  that  it's 
going  to  be  Matt  Peasley's." 

"What  makes  you  think  so,  Cappy?" 

Again  Cappy  chuckled. 

.  "Having  used  German  methods  to  bring  about  this 
auction  sale,"  he  confessed,  "I  concluded  to  steal  a 
little  more  of  this  Teutonic  stuff;  so  I  established  a 
system  of  espionage  in  Skinner's  office  and  another  in 
Matt  Peasley's.  Gus,  I  got  a  lot  of  low-down  informa- 

347 


348  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

tion  on  those  two  young  pups;  they're  trying  to  slip 
something  over  on  the  old  dog." 

"Well,  they'll  never  teach  him  any  new  tricks, 
Cappy." 

"You  know  it !  I  observe  that,  as  usual,  Jim  Searles 
will  conduct  the  auction.  He's  climbing  up  on  the  block 
now,  and,  by  the  Toenails  of  Moses,  Matt  Peasley  is 
on  the  job!  Look,  Gus !  You  can  see  his  black  head 
sticking  up  out  of  the  heart  of  the  riot." 

As  Cappy  and  Redell  joined  the  crowd  Jim  Searles, 
by  acclamation  the  auctioneer  of  the  Port  of  San 
Francisco,  rapped  smartly  with  his  little  gavel,  and 
a  tense  silence  settled  over  the  crowd. 

"This,"  Mr.  Searles  announced,  "will  be  a  fight  to 
a  finish,  winner  take  all.  In  accordance  with  an  order 
of  the  United  States  District  Court  I  am  about  to  sell, 
at  public  auction,  to  the  highest  bidder,  the  Mexican 
Steamship  General  Carranza,  ex-German  Steamship 
Bavarian,  to  satisfy  the  following  judgments:  Mr.  J. 
Augustus  Redell " 

"Cut  it  out!"  roared  Matt  Peasley.  "We've  all 
read  the  list  of  creditors,  and  you're  only  gumming 
up  the  game.  Come  down  to  business  Jim." 

"Good  boy,  Peasley !  Sure !  Cut  it  out,  Jim !  Get 
busy!"  A  dozen  voices  seconded  Captain  Matt  Peas- 
ley's  motion  and  Jim  Searles  rapped  for  order, 

"How  much  am  I  offered?"  he  cried. 

"One  million  dollars!"  roared  Matt  Peasley. 

On  the  fringe  of  the  eager  crowd  Cappy  Ricks  leaned 
up  against  his  friend  Redell  and  commenced  to  laugh. 

"The  young  scoundrel!"  he  chortled.  "He  never 
said  a  word  to  me  about  this  auction;  he  was  afraid 
I'd  butt  in  and  block  his  purchase;  so,  for  his  impu- 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  349 

dence,  1*11  teach  him  a  lesson  he'll  never  forget.     Bid, 
Gus !    Bet  'em  as  high  as  a  hound's  back." 

"Captain  Matt  Peasley,  representing  the  Blue  Star 
Navigation  Company,  bids  one  million  dollars.  Chicken 
feed!  Won't  some  real  sport  please  tilt  the  ante?" 
Jim  Searles  pleaded.  "Don't  waste  my  time,  gentlemen. 
It's  valuable.  Let's  get  this  thing  over  and  go  back  to 
our  offices." 

"One  million  five  hundred  thousand!"  called  J« 
Augustus  Redell. 

"I  called  for  a  sport  and  drew  a  piker,"  Jim  Searles 
retorted.  "Mr.  J.  Augustus  Redell,  of  the  West  Coast 
Trading  Company,  bids  a  million  and  a  half." 

Young  Dalton  Mann,  representing  the  Pacific  Mail 
Steamship  Company,  raised  his  hand  and  snapped  his 
fingers  at  the  auctioneer. 

"And  a  hundred  thousand!"  he  shouted. 

"And  a  hundred  thousand!"  Matt  Peasley  retorted. 

"And  fifty  thousand !"  Mann  flung  back  at  him. 

Matt  Peasley  eyed  his  antagonist  belligerently. 

"That's  doing  very  well  for  a  young  fellow,"  Searles 
complimented  the  last  bidder.  "Skipper  Peasley,  are 
you  going  to  let  this  landlubber  outgame  you?  He 
has  bid  a  million  and  three-quarters.  Think  of  the 
present  high  freight  rates  and  speak  up,  or  remain 
forever  silent." 

The  bidding  had  so  suddenly  and  by  such  prodigious 
bounds  reached  the  elimination  point  that  every  piker 
present  was  afraid  to  open  his  mouth  in  the  presence 
of  these  plungers.  Matt  Peasley  licked  his  lips  and 
glanced  round  rather  helplessly.  He  knew  he  had 
about  reached  the  limit  of  his  bidding,  but  he  sus 
pected  that  Mann  had  reached  his  also. 


350  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"And  ten  thousand!"  he  shouted  desperately. 

"Cheap  stuff!  Cheap  stuff!"  the  crowd  jeered  good- 
naturedly. 

Cappy  Ricks  nudged  J.  Augustus  Redell  as  Mann 
waved  his  hand  in  token  of  surrender.  "One  million 
seven  hundred  and  sixty  thousand  I  am  offered,"  the 
auctioneer  intoned.  "Any  further  bids?"  He  waited 
a  full  minute;  then  resorted  to  three  minutes  of  ca 
jolery,  but  in  vain.  There  were  no  more  bids. 

Jim  Searles  raised  his  hammer. 

''Going — once!"  he  called — and  waited.  "Going — 
twice!"  Another  pause.  "Going " 

"Two  million  dollars!"  cried  J.  Augustus  Redell; 
and  a  sigh  went  up  from  the  excited  onlookers. 

"Ah !    Mr.  Redell  is  a  sport,  after  all !    Two  million, 
flat!"     Searles  looked  down  on  Matt  Peasley.     "Die, 
dog,   or  eat   the  meat   ax !"  he  warned   the  unhappy ' 
young  man. 

"Let  him  have  her,"  Matt  growled ;  and,  very  red 
of  face,  he  commenced  to  shoulder  his  way  through  the 
crowd. 

"Beat  it,  Cappy ;  he's  coming !"  Redell  warned  the  •: 
president  emeritus. 

Cappy  Ricks,  dodging  round  the  flank  of  the  crowd,  1 
fled  through  the  side  entrance  of  the  Merchants'  Ex-1 
change ;  and  he  was  tranquilly  smoking  a  cigar  in  his 
private  office  when  Matt  Peasley  dropped  in  on  him  • 
an  hour  later.     Cappy  eyed  him  coldly. 

"Is    Skinner   back   from   luncheon?"    he   demanded.  1 
Matt  nodded.     "Tell  him  to  come  in  here.     I  want  toi 
see    him,"    Cappy    continued    ominously.      "And    you 
might  stick  round  yourself." 

Mr.  Skinner  made  his  appearance. 


'Two  million  dollars!"  cried  J.  Augustus  Redell. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  351 

"Close  the  door,"  Cappy  commanded. 

Mr.  Skinner  looked  a  little  startled  and  surprised, 
but  promptly  closed  the  door. 

"You  wanted  to  see  me,  Mr.  Ricks?"  he  queried. 

Cappy  Ricks  edged  forward  until  he  was  seated  on 
the  extreme  edge  of  his  chair.  Then  he  rested  a  hand 
on  each  knee,  bent  his  head,  and  glared  at  the  unhappy 
Skinner  over  the  rims  of  his  glasses.  After  thirty 
seconds  of  this  scrutiny  he  turned  to  his  son-in-law. 

"Well,"  he  said,  "I  hear  you've  been  attending  an 
auction  sale  and  making  a  star-spangled  monkey  of 
yourself  bidding  a  million  seven  hundred  and  sixty 
thousand  dollars  on  that  Mexican  steamer.  Matt, 
have  you  taken  leave  of  your  senses?" 

"No,  sir — not  quite ;  but  Gus  Redell  has.  He  bought 
her  in  for  two  million  dollars.  Of  course  he  was  act 
ing  for  somebody  else,  because  every  cent  he  has  is 
working  overtime  in  the  West  Coast  Trading  Com 
pany." 

"Oh !"  Cappy  murmured.  "Then  you  didn't  get  her, 
after  all?" 

"No,  sir!  So  perhaps  you'd  better  not  holler  until 
you're  hit."  Matt  sighed.  "By  Neptune,"  he  declared, 
"I'd  give  a  cooky  to  know  the  name  of  the  crazy  man 
who  paid  two  million  dollars  for  that  steamer!" 

"Behold  the  lunatic,  Matt!  Grandpa  Ricks,  in  his 
second  childhood!  Gus  Redell  was  bidding  for  me, 
sonny." 

Matt  Peasley  sat  down  rather  limply  and  stared  at 
the  president  emeritus. 

"Cappy,"  he  said  presently,  "you  sent  a  boy  to  do 
a  man's  work.  I  had  the  boat  bought  for  a  million 
seven  hundred  and  sixty  thousand !  For  heaven's  sake, 


352  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  wanted  her?  And  I  would 
have  laid  off.  For  the  love  of  heaven,  why  did  you 
go  bidding  against  me?" 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me  you  wanted  her,  you  big 
simp?"  Gappy  retorted.  "You  never  said  a  word  to 
me;  and  naturally  Redell  thought  you  were  acting  for 
somebody  else.  He  had  orders  from  me  to  get  her 
and  damn  the  cost — and  he  fulfilled  his  orders." 

'"A  comedy  of  errors,  truly!"  Mr.  Skinner  observed 
witheringly. 

Matt  Peasley  raised  his  huge  arms  and  clenched  his 
great  fists  in  agony. 

"Oh,  Gappy!  Gappy!"  he  pleaded.  "Won't  you 
please  retire?  You're  just  raising  hell  with  the  or 
ganization  !" 

"All  right,  Matt ;  I'll  retire.  But,  before  I  do,  I'm 
going  to  give  Skinner  a  piece  of  my  mind.  Skinner, 
what  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  going  up  to  the  Marine 
National  Bank  and  borrowing  a  million  dollars  on  the 
credit  of  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company?  I 
admit  I  have  given  you  entire  charge  of  the  lumber 
end,  and  you  were  quite  within  your  rights  when  you 
negotiated  the  loan  and  signed  the  note  as  president; 
but  how  did  it  happen  that  you  didn't  consult  with  the 
old  man,  if  only  as  a  matter  of  common  courtesy?" 

"I — I — that  is,  I — well,  I  didn't  mean  to  be  dis 
courteous,  Mr.  Ricks.  Oh,  I  wouldn't  have  you  think, 
sir " 

"No ;  you'd  have  me  be  a  dummy  if  you  could.  Why, 
you  almost  put  the  skids  under  me;  because,  when  I 
went  up  to  the  Marine  National  to  make  a  little  per 
sonal  loan  in  a  spirit  of  preparedness,  I  discovered 
that  the  loan  you  had  been  given  on  my  assets  had 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  353 

jazzed  my  personal  credit  all  to  glory!  I  used  to  be 
able  to  borrow  a  million  dollars  on  my  bare  note;  but 
I'll  be  shot  if  they  didn't  make  me  dig  up  a  lot  of 
collateral  this  time!  Skinner,  I  wouldn't  have  thought 
that  of  you.  After  trusting  you  as  I  have  done  for 
a  quarter  of  a  century,  to  find  you  giving  me  the 
double-cross  just  about  breaks  my  heart.  Great  God 
frey,  Skinner,  how  could  you  be  so  false  to  me?  I  ex 
pect  that  sort  of  thing  from  Matt — those  one  loves  the 

best  always  swat  one;  but  from  you Skinner,  I 

don't  know  what  prevents  me  from  demanding  your 
resignation  here  and  now,  unless  it  be  because  of  your 
previous  splendid  character  and  loyal  service." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Ricks,  Mr.  Ricks !"  Poor  Skinner  held  up 
his  hands  appealingly  and  commenced  to  weep.  "Please 
do  not  think  ill  of  me.  I  swear " 

"You  loaned  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Com 
pany's  million  dollars  to  Matt  Peasley  to  help  buy  that 
steamer  for  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company ;  and 
he,  the  son  of  a  pirate,  went  to  work  and  borrowed  it 
from  you,  well  knowing  he  had  no  business  to  do  so. 
What  are  you  paying  the  Marine  National  for  that 
money  ?" 

"Five  per  cent,"  Skinner  sniffled,  for  his  heart  was  • 
broken. 

"What  are  you  soaking  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company  for  it?" 

"Six,"   Skinner   confessed   miserably. 

"That's  all  right,  Skinner,  my  boy.  Cheer  up!  I 
forgive  you.  That  little  profit  of  one  per  cent  saves 
your  bacon,  boy.  I  guess  there's  some  good  left  in 
you  still;  and  I'm  happy  to  have  this  evidence  that, 
though  I  own  both  companies,  you  have  not  forgotten 


354  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

you  are  responsible  for  the  profit-and-loss  account  of 
one  of  them,  and  Matt  Peasley  for  the  other.  You 
did  quite  right  to  claim  that  one  per  cent  jerk  from 
Matt.  Business  is  business !" 

"Yes,  you  bet  it  is !"  Matt  Peasley  struck  in.  "And 
I  want  you  to  lay  off  on  Skinner,  because  what  he  did 
was  done  in  fear  and  trembling,  and  under  duress.  We 
were  both  afraid  you'd  block  the  purchase;  so  we 
agreed  to  keep  our  plans  secret  from  you,  because — 
Well,  somehow  I  did  want  that  bully  big  boat  the  very 
worst  way." 

"And  that's  exactly  the  way  you  set  about  getting 
her,  Matthew.  However,  you're  young — you  don't 
know  any  better;  so  I  forgive  you.  Of  course  I  real 
ized  you  wanted  that  steamer,  boy.  I  knew  your  heart 
was  set  on  seeing  our  house  flag  floating  from  her 
mainstruck;  so  I — Well,  I  just  thought  I'd  get  her 
for  you,  to  sort  of  square  myself  for  those  two  bone- 
head  plays  I  pulled  earlier  in  the  year." 

"Oh,  but  you  shouldn't  have  paid  two  millions  for 
her,  Gappy !  Business  is  one  thing  and  sentiment  is 
another." 

"Why,  I  didn't  pay  any  such  price  for  her!  Origi 
nally  I  bought  her,  as  a  German,  for  three  hundred 
thousand  dollars;  in  addition  to  that  I've  spent  about 
ten  thousand  dollars  improving  her,  and  maybe  five 
thousand  more  fussing  up  the  trail  of  my  operations 
so  no  smart  secret-service  operative  could  come  round 
and  hang  something  on  me."  He  reached  into  his  coat 
pocket  and  drew  forth  the  United  States  Marshal's 
bill  of  sale.  "Here,  sonny,"  he  announced,  "is  your 
Uncle  Sam's  certificate  of  title.  Hustle  up  to  the 
customhouse  and  get  it  recorded;  then  make  out  a  bill 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  355 

of  sale  for  a  one-third  interest  to  the  West  Coast 
Trading  Company  and  record  that  also.  Then  change 
her  name  to  Alden  M.  Peasley,  in  honor  of  your  first 
born,  and  put  her  under  these  two  flags." 

He  jerked  open  a  drawer  in  the  desk  and  brought 
forth  a  bright  new  edition  of  Old  Glory,  followed  by 
the  familiar  white  muslin  burgee  with  the  blue  star. 

"Skinner!" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"The  United  States  Marshal  has  paid  all  the  debts 
of  the  Alden  M.  Peasley,  and  this  afternoon  he'll  send 
his  check  for  the  proceeds  of  the  sale  still  remaining 
in  his  hands  to  my  lawyer,  who  holds  a  most  ungodly 
power  of  attorney  from  that  dummy  Guaymas  cor 
poration  Live  Wire  Luiz  organized  to  buy  the  ship 
for  us.  Our  attorney  will  cash  that  check  and  send  the 
cash  down  to  you.  Please  bank  it  to  my  credit  and 
take  up  that  note  I  gave  the  Marine  National;  then 
get  the  securities  I  hocked  and  tuck  them  back  in  my 
safe-deposit  vault.  As  for  the  interest  at  five  per  cent, 
which  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company  will  have 
to  pay  on  that  million  you  borrowed  to  help  Matt 
Peasley  hornswoggle  father,  you  just  charge  that  to 
your  personal  account  as  a  penance  for  your  sins.  As 
for  the  six  per  cent  you  pay  the  Ricks  Lumber  & 
Logging  Company  for  the  money  loaned  your  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company,  Matt  Peasley,  just  charge 
that  to  your  personal  account  as  a  penance  for  your 
sins." 

Both  culprits  nodded  dazedly. 

"Now,"  Cappy  continued,  "I'll  tell  you  something 
else:  The  Alden  M.  Peasley  belongs  to  the  West  Coast 
Trading  Company  and  Alden  P.  Ricks ;  they  own  one- 


356  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

third  for  bringing  the  deal  to  my  attention  and  furnisl 
ing  some  labor,   and  I  own  two-thirds,   or  the  lion's 
share,   for  doing   a   lion's   work — to   wit,   putting  uj 
the  cash  and  promoting  the  deal  to  a  clean  title.    Coi 
sequently,  though  you  two  boys  own  a  nice  little  bloc] 
of  stock  in  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company,  yoi 
don't  own  a  red  cent  in  the  Alden  M.  Peasley,  becaus 
she  doesn't  belong  to  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Coi 
pany,  but  to  the  president  emeritus  thereof.    However, 
as  I  am  about  to  retire  for  keeps  this  time,  I'll  tel 
you  what  I  purpose  doing  with  my  two-thirds  of  the 
Alden  M.  Peasley:  Skinner,  my  dear  boy,  I  kidded  yoi 
into  tears.     Bless  you,  boy,  it  broke  your  heart  whei 
you  thought  your  old  boss  figured  you'd  quit  beinj 
Faithful  Fido,  didn't  it?     Skinner,  loyalty  like  you] 
is   very,  very  precious ;   and   your  affection   is — ei 
Skinner,  you  human  icicle,  you  can't  bluff  me!    I'm  01 
to  you,  young  feller!     Matt,  you  prepare  a  deed  ol 
gift  for  one-half  of  my  two-thirds  interest  to  Skinner, 
and  take  the  other  half  for  yourself;  and  when  tl 
Alden  M.   Peasley  has   earned  what  I  put   into  her, 
credit  my  account  with  it.    After  that,  you  and  Skinner 
and  Gus  Redell  and  Live  Wire  Luiz  can  collect  the 
dividends." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Ricks !    This  is  too  much,"  Skinner  began. 

"Tut,  tut,  sir!  Not  a  peep  out  of  you,  sir!  How 
dare  you  argue  with  me?  Now  just  one  word  more 
before  you  fellers  go:  The  next  time  you  boys  go 
bidding  on  a  ship  at  auction,  take  a  leaf  out  of  Cappy 
Ricks'  book  and  bid  against  yourself !  You  can  always 
scare  the  other  fellows  off  that  way;  the  sky  is  the 
limit — and  you're  bound  to  get  your  money  back.  So 
you  should  Ish  ka  bibble. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  357 

"Now  you  two  young  freshies  go  back  to  your  desks 
and  try  to  learn  humility.  Thus  endeth  the  first  lesson, 
my  children." 

Matt  Peasley  came  close  to  Cappy  and  put  his  big 
arm  round  the  little  old  man. 

"Cappy,"  he  whispered,  "please  don't  retire !" 

"All  right,  son,"  Cappy  answered;  "but  get  that 
infernal  cry-baby,  Skinner,  out  of  my  office.  He's 
breaking  my  heart." 

If  J.  Augustus  Redell  had  been  content  to  sue  for 
peace  following  his  deal  with  Cappy  in  Australian 
wheat,  all  would  have  been  well  for  that  young  man. 
Alas !  As  we  have  already  stated,  he  was  young — and 
there  is  an  old  saying  to  the  effect  that  youth  must  be 
served.  J.  Augustus  Redell,  like  Oliver  Twist,  desired 
more.  His  triumph  over  Cappy  in  the  wheat  deal 
merely  whetted  his  desire  for  more  of  the  Ricks  blood, 
and  in  the  end  the  ingenious  rascal  evolved  a  plan  for 
making  Cappy  the  laughing  stock  of  the  Bilgewater 
Club  for  a  month  of  Sundays. 


CHAPTER  XLIX 


MONSIEUR    !LE    CAPITAINE    RICKS 


RICKS  entered  his  office  at  the  unheard-oi 
hour  of  eight-thirty.     On  his  way  to  his  sanctui 
at  the  end  of  the  long  suite  of  offices  Cappy  paused  i] 
the  lair  of  Mr.  Skinner,  who  looked  up,  amazed. 

"Hello!"  he  saluted  the  president  emeritus.  "What 
brings  you  down  on  the  job  so  early  this  morning,  Mr. 
Ricks?" 

"I've  got  a  hen  on,"  Cappy  replied  briskly, 
glanced   at   Skinner   and   rubbed   his   hands   together. 
"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  continued,  "this  is  a 
horse  concern." 

"Three  sawmills  with  a  combined  output  of  a  million 
feet  a  day  on  a  ten-hour  shift — not  to  mention  a 
billion  feet  of  stumpage — isn't  my  idea  of  a  one-horse 
concern,"  Mr.  Skinner  retorted  with  some  asperity. 

"Tut,  tut,  Skinner!    I'm  not  referring  to  the  luml 
end  at  all;  so  don't  get  touchy.     I'm  referring  to  tl 
Blue  Star  Navigation  Company.     It's  a  dinky  pro] 
sition. 

"Forty-two  vessels — windjammers,  steam  schoonei 

and  foreign-going  freighters "  began  Mr.  Skinner: 

but  Cappy  cut  him  short: 

"Foreign-going  grandmothers !    We've  got  the  Nat 
cissux  and  the  Tillicum." 


"How  about  my  boat — the  John  P.  Skinner?" 


358 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  359 

"Oh,  yes !  That  one  we  scraped  up  off  the  bottom 
of  Papeete  Harbor,"  Gappy  answered  maliciously. 
"Well,  that  makes  three;  and  really  the  Skinner  and 
the  Narcissus  are  the  only  vessels  built  to  go  foreign. 
Remember,  Skinner,  we  built  the  TUlicum  for  the  coast 
wise  lumber  trade,  even  though  she's  so  big  our  com 
petitors  thought  when  we  launched  her  we  were  crazy 
to  build  such  a  whale  for  that  trade." 

"Well,  Mr.  Ricks?" 

"We  ought  to  have  more  big  bottoms,  Skinner. 
We'll  have  hell-cracking  freight  rates  during  the  war 
and  for  a  long  time  thereafter — and  here  we  sit  round 
like  a  lot  of  dubs,  too  conservative  to  help  ourselves  to 
the  gravy.  Why,  you  and  Matt  Peasley  ought  to  be 
knitting  socks  in  an  old  ladies'  home,  for  all  the  pro- 
gressiveness  you're  displaying." 

"I  am  not  in  charge  of  the  shipping  end,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"No ;  but  you've  got  a  tongue  in  your  head,  haven't 
you?  You  were  practically  in  charge  of  the  Blue  Star 
for  more  than  six  months — during  the  entire  period 
Matt  was  at  sea  in  the  Retriever  and  we  thought  he  was 
a  goner.  Why,  dog-gone  you,  Skinner,  even  when  you 
thought  Matt  was  dead  you  didn't  suggest  increasing 
the  fleet.  I'm  surprised,  Skinner,  my  boy,  that  in  my 
old  age,  after  gathering  a  lot  of  young  fellows  round 
me  to  carry  on  the  business,  I've  still  got  to  be  the 
bell  mare !" 

Mr.  Skinner  had  nothing  to  say  to  this ;  if  he  had  it  is 
doubtful  whether  he  would  have  said  it,  for  he  had 
been  too  long  with  Cappy  Ricks  not  to  know  the  signs 
when  the  old  gentleman  took  the  bit  in  his  teeth  and 
declared  for  a  new  deal. 

"I'm  going  into  my  office  to  do  some  tall  thinking, 


360 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


Skinner,"  Cappy  continued.     "Remember!    No  visitoi 
until  I've  threshed  this  whole  business  out  to  my  satis 
faction.    I'm  not  in  to  anybody." 

Cappy  retired  to  his  office,  sat  down  on  his  spii 
in  his   upholstered   swivel   chair,   swung   his   thin   ol( 
shanks  to  the  top  of  his  desk,  bowed  his  head  on  hi{ 
breast,  and  closed  his  eyes.     Scarcely  had  he  done 
when  the  door  opened  and  Matt  Peasley  thrust  his  h( 
in. 

"Well,  Matt?"  Cappy  queried  without  opening  his 
eyes. 

"I  have  an  offer  of  forty  thousand  dollars  foi 
our  old  bark  Alt  air,  Cappy.  What  do  you  think  w< 
ought  to  do?" 

"Take  it !"  Cappy  shrilled.  "You  jibbering  j ackdaw ! 
Grab  it!  She's  been  a  failure  since  the  day  I  built 
her;  never  balanced,  always  burying  her  nose  in  the 
seas,  and  drowning  a  sailor  about  once  a  year.  If 
we  keep  that  ship  much  longer  she'll  sail  herself  under 
some  day  and  we'll  be  out  the  forty  thousand.  Altalr! 
Fancy  name !  Skinner  got  it  out  of  Ben  Hur.  He'd  been 
in  the  shipping  game  ten  years  then  and  hadn't  learned 
that  was  the  name  of  a  star!  We  should  have  called 
her  the  Water  Spaniel.  Sell  her,  Matt,  and  we'll  put 
the  money  into  a  steamer  that  can  run  foreign.' 

"If  you  can  tell  me  where  we  can  buy,  even  at  three 
times  her  intrinsic  value,  a  steamer  that  will  run 
foreign,  I'm  willing  to  consider  selling  the  Altair. 
Just  at  present  she's  earning  big  dividends ;  and  until 
we  can  find  a  place  to  invest  her  selling  price,  the 
money  will  earn  six  per  cent  instead  of  sixty,  as  at 
present." 

"Clear  out  and  let  me  think!"  Cappy  commanded, 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  361 

ind    Matt    Peasley    retired    to    Mr.    Skinner's    office. 

"Have  you  noticed  the  old  gentleman  lately?"  he 
inquired  of  Skinner.  "Ever  since  his  grandson  ar 
rived  grandpa  has  been  paying  attention  to  business." 

"He's  dissatisfied  with  his  own  and  our  efforts  thus 
far.  He  thinks  he's  been  a  piker  and  that  you  and  I 
are  his  first-assistant  pikers.  He  has  ships  on  the 
brain." 

"He's  getting  pretty  cocky,"  Matt  agreed ;  "but,  at 
that,  I  guess  he  has  a  license  to  be." 

"I've  been  with  him  twenty-six — yes,  twenty-seven — 
years ;  and  I  know  him,  Matt.  He's  cooking  up  some 
thing  prodigious — and  it  will  soon  be  done." 

The  door  of  Cappy's  office  opened  and  Gappy  stood 
in  the  entrance. 

"Skinner,"  he  ordered,  "get  me  a  letter  of  credit  for 
about  twenty  thousand  dollars.  I'm  going  travelling." 

"Where?"  Matt  and  Skinner  queried  in  chorus. 

"To  Europe." 

"You're  not!"  Matt  Peasley  declared.  "You're 
liable  to  be  torpedoed  en  route." 

"I  know,  but  then,  too,  I'm  liable  not  to  be;  and  if 
I  am,  why,  I'm  an  old  man,  and  I'll  only  be  cheating 
the  devil  by  a  few  years  or  a  few  months.  Come  in 
here,  you  two  dead  ones." 

They  followed  him  into  his  office. 

"We  need  some  steamers,"  Cappy  announced.  "Every 
shipyard  in  the  United  States  that  could  build  the  kind 
of  steamer  we  want  is  full  up  with  contracts  for  the 
next  three  years ;  so  I'm  going  to  Norway  or  Sweden  or 
Denmark,  or  some  non-belligerent  European  country, 
and  see  whether  I  can't  place  some  contracts  there  for 
a  couple  of  real  freighters.  Then,  too,  I  may  be  able 


362 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


to  pick  up  good  vessels  over  there  at  a  reasonabL 
price.  Under  the  Emergency  Shipping  Act  we  can  gel 
them  provisional  American  registry — and  that's  all 
we  need.  Before  a  great  while  Uncle  Sam  is  going  to 
turn  his  antiquated  shipping  laws  inside  out,  and  any 
foreign-built  boats  we  may  acquire  now  will  be  given 
the  right  to  run  in  the  coastwise  trade  also." 

"See  here,  Gappy,"  Matt  reminded  the  old  man 
"you're  retired  and  I'm  in  charge  of  the  destinies  of 
the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company.  I  don't  want  you 
working  yourself  to  death." 

"You  mean  you  don't  want  me  butting  in.  Non 
sense  !  What's  the  use  of  having  a  grandson  if  a  fellow 
doesn't  hustle  up  something  for  the  boy  to  sharpen  his 
teeth  on  when  he  grows  up?  Here  I've  been  living 
from  day  to  day,  just  marking  time  on  the  road  to 
eternity  and  figuring  life  wasn't  worth  while  because  the 
stock  was  going  to  die  out  with  me.  Up  until  recently 
I  was  content  with  a  little  old  one-horse  business; 
but  now,  by  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  boy,  we'v< 
got  to  get  out  and  shake  a  leg!  Freighters!  That's 
what  we  want.  Big,  well-decked  tramps,  flying  the 
Stars  and  Stripes  in  every  port  on  earth.  Why,  what 
kind  of  a  nation  are  we  getting  to  be,  anyway  ?  We're 
a  passel  of  mollycoddles,  asleep  on  the  job.  We  haven't 
half  enough  ships  to  coal  our  navy.  In  the  event  of 
war  it  would  take  us  a  week  to  dig  up  ships  enough 
to  transport  the  New  York  Police  Department.  I  tell 
you,  Matt,  when  I'm  gone  you'll  have  to  have  somethii 
for  that  grandson  of  mine  to  do  or  he'll  grow  up  into 
one  of  these  idle-rich,  ne'er-do-well,  two-for-a-quarter 
dudes.  You  bet  I've  been  doing  a  deal  of  thinking 
lately.  We  can't  send  that  boy  to  college,  and  spoil 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  363 

him  before  he's  twenty-five.  We'll  run  that  young 
man  through  high  school;  just  about  that  time  he'll 
begin  to  get  snobbish  and  we'll  take  that  out  of  him 
by  sending  him  to  sea  as  a  cadet  on  one  of  our  own 
ships.  We'll  teach  him  democracy — that's  what  we'll 
teach  him.  When  he's  twenty-one  he'll  be  a  skipper 
like  his  forebears  and  you'll  be  only  about  forty-six. 
Good  Lord!  To  think  of  you  two  young  fellows  run 
ning  my  Blue  Star  ships — and  not  enough  ships  to  keep 

you  busy !     Preposterous !     I  can't  consider Well, 

Hankins,  my  dear  boy,  what's  troubling  you?'* 

Mr.  Hankins,  the  secretary,  had  entered. 

"I  wanted  to  see  Mr.  Skinner  a  moment.  Ill  wait. 
Didn't  know  you  were  busy." 

And  he  started  to  retire.  Cappy  checked  him: 
"Finish  with  Skinner,  Hankins.  He'll  be  in  consulta 
tion  here  with  Matt  and  me  for  an  hour  yet." 

"I  just  wanted  to  know,  Mr.  Skinner,  whether  all 
those  cablegrams  to  Captain  Landry,  of  the  Alt  air,  are 
to  be  charged  to  general  expense,  Captain  Landry's 
personal  account,  or  to  the  Altair." 

"It  seems  to  me  you  should  charge  them  to  Captain 
Landry,  Hankins,"  Mr.  Skinner  spoke  up.  "It  isn't 
ship's  business  and  it  isn't  Blue  Star  business.  If  he 
wants  this  office  to  cable  him  every  day  about  his 
family -" 

"Here!  What's  this  you're  talking  about,  Skinner?" 
Cappy  interrupted. 

"When  Captain  Landry  sailed  for  Callao  his  wife 
didn't  accompany  him " 

"Lucky  rascal!  He  told  me  he  was  expecting  an 
heir." 

"And  he's  still  expecting  that  heir." 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Naturally,"  Mr.  Hankins  explained,  "he's  been  anx 
ious  for  news ;  and  ever  since  his  arrival  in  Callao  he's 
cabled  us  every  other  day latterly  every  day — ask 
ing  whether  the  baby  has  been  born,  and  whether  it's 
a  boy  or  a  girl." 

"A  very  pardonable  human  curiosity,  my  boy.  Pro 
ceed." 

"Unfortunately  the  baby  appears  to  be  held  up  on 
demurrage  and  I  think  we've  spent  at  least  fifty  dollars 
cabling  to  Landry  that  the  youngster  has  failed  to  re 
port.  I  imagine  the  skipper  has  spent  twice  that  sum 

inquiring  for  news " 

"Of  course!  It's  his  first  baby,  isn't  it?  You  must 
allow  for  human  nature." 

"I  thought  we  would — for  the  first  half  dozen  cable 
grams  ;  but  after  it  became  a  habit  it  appeared  that 
Landry  ought  to  pay  for  his  fancies." 

"He  should,"  Mr.  Skinner  declared  firmly.  "Charge 
the  cablegrams  to  Landry." 

"Nothing  doing!"   piped   Cappy.      "Charge   'em  to 

general  expense.    Dang  you,  Skinner,  I  despair  of  ever 

breaking  you  of  that  habit  of  operating  on  the  cheap !" 

"Oh,  very  well,  sir — only  the  expense  is  getting  to 

be  quite  an  item." 

"I'm  just  about  to  send  him  another  cablegram,"  Mr. 
Hankins  declared  fretfully.  "The  Altair  is  due  to  sail 
from  Callao  and  the  baby  is  still  unborn ;  it  will  be  two 
months  old,  at  least,  before  the  skipper  gets  any 
further  news." 

"Let's  see  your  cablegram,"  Cappy  ordered,  and  Mr. 
Hankins  passed  it  over.  Cappy  read  it.  "Holy  suffer 
ing  sailor!"  he  cried.  "Why  this  concern  isn't  in  the 
hands  of  a  receiver  is  a  mystery  to  me."  He  looked  up 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  365 

at  Mr.  Hanldns  with  blood  in  his  eye.  "Here  you  are, 
Hankins,  trying  to  saddle  a  bill  of  expense  on  a  poor, 
heartbroken,  anxious,  embryo  parent-to-be.  Knowing 
full  well  that  he  only  makes  a  hundred  and  fifty 
dollars  a  month,  you  admit  to  an  endeavor  to  stick  him 
for  fifty  dollars'  worth  of  cablegrams  from  this  end,  not 
to  mention  those  from  his  end.  If  you  had  spent  your 
time,  sir,  figuring  out  a  way  to  cut  down  that  cable 
expense,  instead  of  discovering  a  rotten  way  to  get 

rid  of  it Why,  look  here !  You  can  use  your  code 

book  and  save  a  couple  of  dollars." 

"Code  book!"  Mr.  Hankins  protested  indignantly. 
"Why,  who  ever  heard  of  a  code  book  for  cabling  on 
baby  business  ?" 

"Use  your  shipping  code.  Here ;  hand  me  that  code 
book.  There's  bound  to  be  something  to  fit  the  occa 
sion — there  always  is.  Hum-m-m !  Ahem !  Harumph- 
h-h!  Let  us  see  what  we  shall  see  under  the  head  of 
cargoes ;  Loading !  Discharging !  Demurrage !  Ahem ! 
That  won't  do.  He'd  be  liable  to  confuse  it  with  the 
ship's  business.  Harumph-h-h !  Arrivals.  Now  we  have 
it.  Landry  has  been  asking  of  an  expected  arrival, 
hasn't  he?"  Cappy  ran  his  index  finger  down  the  page. 
"Here  you  are,  Hankins.  Hum-m-m!  Afilamos — 
meaning  no  new  arrivals.  Naturally  Landry  'will  say  to 
himself:  'Well,  for  heaven's  sake,  when  will  that  child 
arrive?'  We  should  enlighten  him  on  that  point." 

"We  cannot." 

"Very  well,  then.  Say  so.  Here  you  are.  Affumi- 
cata — meaning :  We  cannot  guarantee  time  of  arrival. 
Hankins,  have  you  talked  with  Mrs.  Landry's  physician 
in  order  to  get  the  latest  ringside  reports?" 

"Yes,  sir." 


366  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"What  does  he  say?" 

"Well,  he  says  he  thinks  it  will  be  twins,  in  a  couple 
of  days  at  the  most." 

"Good  news!  Here  you  are.  Afilaba — meaning: 
Heavy  arrivals  expected  shortly.  Now  then,  Hankins, 
he'll  want  some  news  of  his  wife,  won't  he?  How  about 
her?" 

"She  went  to  the  hospital  this  morning1." 

Cappy  closed  his  eyes  and  pondered ;  then  once  more 
took  up  the  code  book.  Followed  a  silence.  Then : 

"Bully!  He'll  understand  perfectly,  being  a  sailor. 
Desdoble — meaning:  Is  now  in  dry  dock.  And,  of 
course,  Landry  will  want  to  know  whether  his  wife 
is  in  any  danger.  Danger !  Danger !  Ships  are  some 
times  in  danger.  When?  When  they're  wrecked,  of 
course.  Let  us  look  under  the  head  of  wrecks  .  .  . 
No ;  nothing  seems  to  fill  the  bill.  Wreck,  wrecked, 
worse,  writ,  write,  wrong — ah,  I  have  it !  Wohlgemuth 
— meaning:  There  is  nothing  wrong."  He  looked  up 
at  Mr.  Hankins.  "Now  there's  the  kind  of  cablegram 
to  send — even  on  baby  business.  Those  four  code 
words  translated  mean:  No  new  arrivals;  heavy 
arrivals  expected  shortly;  is  now  in  dry  dock;  there 
is  nothing  wrong.  Literally  translated  it  means :  Baby 
not  born  yet;  twins  expected  shortly;  your  wife  now 
in  hospital;  everything  lovely!  I  suppose,  Hankins, 
you  have  carbon  copies  of  all  these  cablegrams  you've 
been  sending?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"Code  them  all,  so  far  as  possible,  and  ascertain 
how  much  money  you  might  have  saved  the  Blue  Star 
by  the  exercise  of  a  little  common  sense;  then  charge 
the  cablegrams,  on  the  coded  basis,  to  our  general 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  367 

expense,  and  charge  to  your  personal  account  the  sum 
you  might  have  saved  by  the  exercise  of  the  ingenuity 
and  efficiency  I  have  a  right  to  expect  of  a  man  who 
draws  down  as  fat  a  salary  as  you  do." 


CHAPTER  L 

Mr.  Hankins  withdrew,  greatly  crestfallen,  and  the 
despot  of  the  Blue  Star  office  turned  to  his  trusted 
lieutenants. 

"Well,"  he  declared,  "one  after  the  other  you  have 
to  come  to  the  old  man  to  be  shown.  I  guess  I've 
proved  to  you  two  boys  this  morning  that  I'm  to  be 
trusted  with  buying  a  few  ships  and  letting  contracts 
for  a  few  more,  haven't  I?" 

"I  don't  like  the  idea  of  Cappy  Ricks  on  a  steamer 
that's  likely  to  be  torpedoed.  I  don't  want  you  to 
go  to  Europe  alone " 

"I'm  not  going  alone.  Captain  Mike  Murphy,  our 
new  port  captain,  is  going  with  me.  I  wouldn't  think 
of  buying  a  steamer  unless  that  splendid  fellow  O.K.'d 
the  hull.  And  Terry  Reardon,  our  new  port  engineer, 
will  accompany  me  also.  Terry  has  to  O.K.  the  engines. 
Between  the  three  of  us,  it's  going  to  take  a  smart 
trader  to  sell  us  any  junk,  I'm  telling  you !" 

"I  ought  to  go  with  you,"  Matt  suggested. 

"You  have  your  work  at  home,  attending  to  the 
fleet.  It  isn't  much  of  a  fleet,  I'll  admit ;  but  such  as  it 
is  it  requires  some  attention.  I'll  be  the  chief  scout 
of  this  organization  and  see  whether  I  can't  rustle  up 
some  major-league  vessels  from  some  of  those  bush- 
league  European  owners." 

"I've  had  a  fine  time  getting  good  men  to  take  their 
places  in  the  Narcissus  since  you  promoted  Mike  and 

368 


•     CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  369 

Terry  in  my  absence!"  Matt  complained.  "Mike  and 
Terry  know  her  well — and  she's  such  a  big  brute  to 
handle." 

"Where  is  the  Narcissus,  by  the  way?" 

"Loading  nitrate  at  Tocopilla  and  Antofagasta, 
Chile.  This  is  her  last  voyage  under  the  old  charter." 

"Got  any  new  business  in  sight  for  her?" 

"I  won't  have  the  slightest  difficulty  getting  another 
nitrate  charter  and  at  a  rate  double  what  she's  been 
getting." 

"Every  vessel  taken  off  the  nitrate  run  stiffens  the 
freight  rate  in  these  days,  when  they  have  to  have 
so  much  nitrate  in  the  manufacture  of  war  munitions," 
the  astute  Cappy  declared.  "If  I  were  you,  Matt,  I'd 
find  her  a  good  outside  cargo  or  two,  and  then  slip  her 
back  in  the  nitrate  business  again.  Freights  may  have 
advanced  in  the  interim." 

"I  have  a  mighty  profitable  cargo  offered  me  this 
morning,  Cappy.  An  agent  of  the  British  Government 
called  on  me  and  offered  a  whopping  price  for  carrying 
a  cargo  of  mules  and  horses  from  Galveston  to  Havre. 
I  think  I  shall  turn  the  proposition  down.  It's  too  dan 
gerous,  Cappy." 

"You  mean  we  might  have  our  ship  blown  up  by  a 
German  submarine?" 

Matt  nodded. 

"Well,  we'd  collect  our  freight  in  advance,  wouldn't 
we?  And  the  British  Government  will  guarantee  to 
reimburse  us  if  the  ship  is  lost,  will  it  not  ?  Well,  then, 
where's  the  risk?" 

"There's  the  danger  to  the  crew." 

"Any  man  that  goes  to  sea  knows  he  has  to  take  a 
chance.  Bet  you  Mike  Murphy  could  take  that  cargo 


370  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

of  livestock  across  and  bring  another  cargo  back. 
He's  luckier  than  a  cross-eyed  coon.  And  another 
thing,  Matt:  If  you  accept  that  business  we  can  kill 
two  birds  with  one  stone — yes,  three — because  Mike  and 
Terry  and  I  will  cross  over  on  the  Narcissus  and  save 
the  price  of  transportation  from  here  to  New  York, 
and  from  New  York  to  Liverpool.  Then,  while  the 
Narcissus  is  discharging  and  taking  on  another  cargo, 
we'll  go  scouting  for  available  steamers." 

"It  might  be  done,  though  I  hate  to  think  of  it 
Cappy.  If  we  lose  the  vessel  they'll  pay  us  a  million 
and  a  half  for  her,  of  course — and  she  cost  us  less  than 
three  hundred  thousand  a  year  ago.  And,  as  you  say, 
we'll  collect  the  freight  in  advance.  They're  very  anx 
ious  to  get  the  Narcissus.  She's  a  whopping  big  boat, 
and  that's  the  kind  of  a  vessel  they  need  for  a  horse 
transport." 

"Yes ;  and,  by  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  it  will 
be  a  bully  vacation,  and  a  bully  vacation  is  something 
I  haven't  had  since  the  night  of  the  big  wind  in  Ire 
land.  Moreover,  I  combine  business  with  pleasure, 
which  is  always  desirable;  and,  if  that  isn't  excuse 
enough,  I  want  to  tell  you  it's  cheaper  to  travel  dead 
head  on  our  own  boats  than  to  pay  for  three  round- 
trip  tickets  to  Europe  on  a  Cunard  liner." 

"But  suppose  a  German  submarine " 

"Matt,  all  my  life  I've  played  a  quiet,  safe,  sane, 
conservative  game.  I've  always  longed  for  adventure 
and  never  had  it.  Why,  just  consider  a  moment  what 
a  tiresome  thing  life  would  be  were  it  not  for  the 
prospect  of  death  at  any  moment !  That's  all  that  keeps 
us  hustling,  my  boy — trying  to  put  over  a  winning 
run  before  the  game  is  called  on  account  of  darkness. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  371 

Hell's  bells !  Don't  try  to  scare  me  with  a  sheet  and 
the  rattle  of  old  bones.  Suppose  they  do  blow  us  up? 
We  don't  lose  a  dollar;  in  fact,  we  make  money — and 
we  can  take  to  the  boats,  can't  we?" 

"They  only  give  you  fifteen  minutes " 

"We'll  have  the  boats  swung  overside,  provisioned 
and  ready,  two  days  ahead." 

"But  they  don't  care  how  far  out  to  sea  they  leave 
you.  I  spent  two  weeks  in  an  open  boat  once  and  I 
know  you  can't  stand  two  days.  The  exposure " 

"When  we  get  down  to  Galveston,"  Cappy  inter 
rupted  triumphantly,  "I'll  have  Mike  Murphy  buy  a 
nice,  staunch  little  secondhand  motor  cruiser,  thirty- 
eight  or  forty  feet  long,  with  plenty  of  power  and  com 
fortable  living  accommodations  for  half  a  dozen  people. 
Mike  will  arrange  for  extra  oil  and  gasoline  tankage, 
and  we'll  swing  this  cruiser  in  on  the  main  deck  and 
let  it  rest  there  in  a  cradle,  with  the  slings  round  it, 
ready  to  lift  overside  with  the  cargo  derricks  at  a 
minute's  notice.  I'll  be  as  snug  in  that  little  cruiser 
as  a  bug  under  a  chip — and  we'll  tow  the  lifeboats. 
So  that  settles  it — and  if  it  doesn't  I'd  like  to  know 
who's  the  boss  of  this  shebang,  anyhow !" 

Mr.  Skinner  glanced  covertly  at  Captain  Matt  Peas- 
ley  and  shook  his  head  almost  imperceptibly,  as  who 
should  say:  "Better  give  in  to  him,  Matt.  I  know 
him  longer  than  you  do;  he'll  have  his  way  if  it  kills 
him."  And  Matt  took  the  hint,  with  the  result  that 
some  six  weeks  later  Cappy  Ricks,  accompanied  by 
his  faithful  port  captain  and  his  equally  faithful  port 
engineer,  cleared  for  Galveston  aboard  the  Sunset 
Limited.  And  at  Galveston  began  the  only  real  vaca 
tion  Cappy  Ricks  had  ever  had. 


CHAPTER  LI 

To  begin,  there  was  the  task  of  superintending 
the  installation  of  the  accommodations  for  the  cargo 
of  mules  and  horses.  Cappy  was  particularly  interested 
in  the  ventilating  system  below  decks,  for  he  was  fond 
of  horses  and  had  resolved  to  deliver  the  cargo  without 
the  loss  of  a  single  animal.  Of  no  mediocre  turn  of 
mind  mechanically,  he,  assisted  by  Terry  Reardon, 
made  a  few  suggestions  that  the  British  veterinaries  in 
charge  were  very  glad  to  accept. 

The  real  enjoyment  of  the  trip,  however,  Cappy 
found  down  at  the  breaking  corrals  where  the  horses 
were  detraining.  They  were  all  young  and  full  of 
life,  and  fully  ninety  per  cent  of  them  had  only  been 
halter-broken.  In  the  lot  was  many  an  outlaw  whose 
ancestors  had  run  wild  for  generations  in  Nevada; 
and  as  the  delivery  contract  specified  that  a  horse  to 
be  accepted  must  be  broken — God  save  the  mark ! — as 
Terence  Reardon  remarked  after  seeing  one  passed  as 
broken,  following  five  minutes  of  furious  pitching  and 
squealing — Cappy  Ricks  was  one  of  the  first  at  the 
corral  and  the  last  to  leave.  Perched  on  the  topmost 
rail,  he  piped  encouragement  to  the  lank,  flat-bellied 
border  busters  who,  a  dozen  times  a  day,  risked  life 
and  limb  at  five  dollars  a  bust. 

Mike  Murphy  and  Terence  Reardon,  who  had  ridden 
more  than  one  China  Sea  typhoon  and  West  India 
hurricane,  marvelled  that  men  should  take  such  ns 

372 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  373 

for  any  amount  of  money.  Privately  they  considered 
Cappy  Ricks  an  accessory  before  the  fact,  inasmuch  as 
Cappy  hung  up  at  least  five  hundred  dollars  in  small 
prizes  for  the  vaqueros.  Whenever  they  had  a  "bad 
one"  they  could  always  induce  Cappy  to  offer  ten 
dollars  for  staying  two  minutes  and  five  dollars  a  minute 
for  each  minute  over  the  limit — which  seldom  reached 
two  minutes.  Also,  Cappy  was  willing  to  furnish  two 
silver  dollars  whenever  some  adventurer  thought  he 
could  put  a  dollar  between  each  leg  and  the  saddle  and 
have  the  dollars  there  when  the  horse  surrendered.  They 
ran  in  a  couple  of  trained  buckers  on  Cappy  and  de 
pleted  his  bank  roll  considerably  before  he  began  to 
smell  a  rat. 

To  these  plainsmen,  charged  with  the  destinies  of  the 
mounts  for  the  young  British  soldier,  Cappy  Ricks 
was  known  familiarly  as  Cap.  Before  the  last  of  the 
horses  had  been  passed  as  broken  and  hustled  aboard 
the  big  Narcissus,  Cappy  knew  each  horse  wrangler 
by  his  first  name  or  nickname,  and  had  learned  the 
intricacies  of  many  hitherto  unheard-of  games  of 
chance  that  flourish  along  the  Rio  Grande.  He  was 
an  expert  at  cooncan,  and  Pangingi  fascinated  him; 
then  they  taught  him  Mexican  monte,  and  one  worthless 
individual  stole  an  ace  out  of  the  deck,  whereupon  all 
hands  had  a  joyous  hack  at  Cappy,  who,  when  informed 
privately  by  his  friend,  Sam  Daniels, 'foreman  of  the 
jutfit,  that  he  was  in  bad  company  and  being  skinned 
alive,  went  uptown  and  bought  some  specially  con 
structed  dice,  which  he  introduced  brazenly  into  a  crap 
grame,  thereby  more  than  catching  even.  He  was  the 
last  man  in  the  world  a  gang  of  wicked  cowboys 


374  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

would  suspect  of  guile;  all  of  them,  quite  foolishly, 
thought  he  had  more  money  than  brains. 

Eventually,  however,  the  Narcissus  was  loaded, 
Cappy  moved  into  the  owner's  suite,  and  his  new-found 
friends  bunked  in  a  temporary  deck  house  forward 
when  they  weren't  busy  below  decks  playing  chamber 
maid  to  the  cargo.  And  with  Cappy's  motor  cruiser 
swung  in  the  cradle,  ready  for  launching  from  the  main 
deck  aft,  the  Narcissus  slipped  out  of  Galveston  and 
went  snoring  across  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  bound  for 
Le  Havre. 

Mike  Murphy  was  not  happy,  however.  He  resented 
Cappy  Ricks,  who  would  persist  in  going  below  to 
inspect  the  cargo  and  in  consequence  smelled  like  a 
hostler.  Moreover,  Michael  was  the  port  captain  of 
the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  now  and  not  the 
master  of  the  ship ;  and  the  Narcissus  wasn't  out  of 
sight  of  land  before  Mike  made  the  discovery  that  the 
boatswain  of  the  ship  was  absolutely  inefficient,  that  the 
cook  was  wasteful,  that  the  first  officer  was  too  talka 
tive,  and  the  skipper  too  easy-going. 

And  these  conditions,  on  a  ship  he  had  once  com 
manded,  irked  Murphy  exceedingly.  Terence  Rear- 
don  was  in  much  the  same  state  of  mind.  Being  port 
engineer,  he  investigated  the  engine  room  and  found 
that  his  favorite  monkey  wrench  had  been  lost ;  there 
were  two  leaky  tubes  in  the  main  boiler;  the  ash  hoist 
was  out  of  kilter;  his  successor  in  the  Narcissus  was 
carrying  ten  pounds  of  steam  less  than  Terence  used 
to  carry;  and  there  was  something  not  quite  right 
with  the  condenser.  The  engine  room  crew  Terence 
characterized  to  Mike  Murphy  as  a  gang  of  "vaga- 
bones,"  and  hinted  darkly  at  sweeping  changes  when 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  375 

ship  should  get  back  to  the  United  States.  Once 
he  went  so  far  as  to  state  that  he  might  have  expected 
as  much  when,  upon  leaving  the  Narcissus  to  become 
port  engineer,  he  had  given  her  to  his  old  first  assist 
ant  ;  since  he  had  never  known  a  first  assistant,  barring 
himself,  to  make  a  good  chief ! 


CHAPTER  LII 

On  the  very  day  the  Xarcissus  left  Galveston  the 
German  submersible  V-14  left  her  base  at  Zeebrugge, 
with  oil  and  torpedoes  sufficient  to  last  her  on  an  or 
dinary  three  weeks'  cruise,  and  promptly  headed  for 
that  section  of  the  Atlantic  where  information  and  be 
lief  told  her  commander  the  hunting  would  be  good. 
And  it  was — so  good,  in  fact,  that  to  the  very  great 
disgust  of  her  crew  she  had  just  two  torpedoes  in  stock 
when  the  man  on  watch  at  her  periscope  reported  a 
large  freight  steamer  to  the  west.  Promptly  the  V-14 
submerged  and  proceeded  on  a  course  calculated  to  in 
tercept  the  freighter,  which  presently  was  discovered 
to  be  the  U.S.S.  Narcissus. 

The  captain  of  the  V-14  almost  licked  his  chops.  He 
had  heard  of  the  Xarcissus.  The  neutrality  laws  of 
the  United  States  had  prevented  him  from  hearing  of 
her  by  wireless  when  she  cleared  from  Galveston,  but 
he  had  been  on  the  lookout  for  her,  just  the  same,  ever 
since  a  Dutch  steamer  from  New  York,  with  an  alert 
German  chief  mate,  had  touched  at  Copenhagen,  from 
which  point  the  dispatches  that  mate  carried  had  gone 
underground  straight  to  the  office  of  the  German  Ad 
miralty.  The  information  anent  the  Xarcissus  had 
been  brief  but  illuminating:  She  had  been  chartered 
to  carry  horses  for  the  British  Government  from  Gal 
veston  to  Le  Havre,  and  the  word  to  get  her  at  aU 
hazards  had  been  passed  to  the  submarine  flotilla. 

376 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  377 

Captain  Emil  Bechtel,  of  the  V-14,  did  not  possess 
r.n  Iron  Cross  of  any  nature  whatsoever,  and  as  he 
'tudied  the  oncoming  Narcissus  through  the  periscope 
iue  reflected  that  this  big  brute  of  a  boat  would  bring 
jam  one,  provided  he  was  lucky.  He  remembered  he 
iad  but  two  torpedoes  left,  and  under  the  circum- 
tances  he  paused  to  consider. 

Clearly — since  the  Narcissus  was  laden  with  horses 
,nd  mules  for  the  enemy  she  was  carrying  contraband 
—she  must  not  escape.  On  the  other  hand,  there  had 
<een  a  deal  of  unpleasantness  of  late  because  President 
Wilson  had  been  protesting  the  sinking  of  vessels  with- 
ut  warning — and  the  Narcissus  was  a  United  States 
'teamer.  Consequently  if  he  torpedoed  her  without 
earning  the  temperamental  Kaiser  might  make  of 
Captain  Emil  Bechtel  what  is  colloquially  known  as  the 
<;oat ;  whereas,  on  the  other  hand,  should  he  conform 
o  international  law  and  place  her  crew  in  safety  be- 
ore  sinking  her,  there  was  a  chance  that  her  wireless 
light  summon  a  patrol  boat  to  the  vicinity — Bechtel 
*ad  sighted  one  less  than  an  hour  before — and  patrol 
oats  had  a  miserable  habit,  when  they  sighted  a  peri- 
cope,  of  shooting  it  to  pieces. 

Then,  too,  it  was  just  possible  that  the  perfidious 
•inglish  had  mounted  a  couple  of  six-inch  guns  on  her 
fter  getting  to  sea — and  the  German  knew  a  six- 
ach  shell,  well-placed,  would  send  his  vessel  to  the 
•ottom.  Moreover,  it  was  sunset ;  in  half  an  hour  it 
rould  be  twilight ;  he  had  no  knowledge  of  the  speed  of 
he  Narcissus  and  she  might  try  to  make  a  run  for  it, 
hus  forcing  him  to  come  to  the  surface  and  shell  her 
hould  he  miss  with  his  torpedoes.  Further,  if  he 
-ttacked  her  and  she  escaped,  there  was  an  elderly 


378  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

gentleman  with  whiskers  back  in  Berlin  who  would  do 
things  to  him  if  the  Kaiser  didn't. 

There  was,  however,  one  course  open  to  the  German. 
To  his  way  of  thinking,  during  the  exciting  diplomatic 
tangle  with  the  United  States,  he  would  be  damned  if 
he  did  and  damned  if  he  didn't ;  but  if  he  did,  and  no 
body  could  prove  it,  old  Von  Tirpitz  would  ask  no 
questions. 

"I'll  let  her  have  it,"  Captain  Emil  Bechtel  con 
cluded;  and  he  passed  the  word  to  get  ready. 

A  minute  later  Gappy  Ricks,  smoking  his  after- 
dinner  cigar  on  the  bridge  of  the  Narcissus  with  her 
skipper  and  Mike  Murphy,  pointed  far  off  the  port 
bow. 

"There's  a  shark  or  a  swordfish,  or  something, 
breaching,"  he  said.  "I  can  see  his  wake." 

Mike  Murphy  took  a  casual  glance  in  the  direction 
Cappy  was  pointing,  while  the  master  of  the  Narcissus 
reached  for  his  marine  glasses  and  lazily  put  them 
to  his  eyes. 

"Shark  be  damned!"  yelled  Murphy.  "It's  a  tor 
pedo  or  I'm  a  Chinaman !  Hard-a-starboard !" 

He  leaped  for  the  engine-room  telegraph  and  jammed 
it  over  to  Full  Speed  Astern;  then  dashed  into  the 
pilot  house  and  commenced  a  furious  ringing  of  the 
ship's  bell,  summoning  the  crew  to  boat  drill,  the 
while  his  anxious  eye  marked  the  swift  progress  of  the 
white  streak  coming  toward  them.  What  wind  there 
was  happened  fortunately  to  be  on  the  vessel's  port 
counter,  and  as  the  helmsman  spun  the  wheel  the  big 
vessel  fell  off  quickly  and  easily,  while  the  rumble  of 
her  shaft,  suddenly  reversed,  fairly  shook  the  ship.  To 
Cappy  Ricks  it  seemed  that  the  vessel  must  be  brought 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  379 

up  standing,  like  one  of  the  broncos  he  had  seen  ridden 
with  a  Spanish  bit;  but  a  big  ship  under  full  headway 
is  not  stopped  very  abruptly,  and  the  Narcissus  swept 
•on,  turning  as  she  went  in  order  to  offer  as  little  target 
as  possible  to  the  torpedo. 

"Will  we  make  it,  Mike?"  Cappy  Ricks  queried  in  a 
very  small,  awed  voice. 

Mike  Murphy  turned  and  found  his  owner  at  his 
elbow. 

"I  hope  it  hits  her  forward,"  he  replied.  "That 
motor  cruiser  is  cradled  aft  and  we  might  save  it.  They 
never  hailed  us — ah-h-h,  missed!" 

The  torpedo  flew  by,  missing  the  big  blunt  bow  by 
less  than  three  feet. 

"I  guess  they'll  get  us  just  the  same,"  Mike  Mur- 
rphy  murmured  quietly;  "but  we're  going  down  fight- 
ing." 

And,  disregarding  the  master  of  the  Narcissus,  who 
was  staring  vacantly  after  the  flying  torpedo,  he  rang 
for  Full  Speed  Ahead,  and  called  down  the  speaking 
tube  to  the  chief  to  hook  her  on  for  all  he  had;  then, 
>with  his  helm  still  hard-a-starboard,  he  swung  the 
ship  in  as  small  a  circle  as  possible  and  headed  her  at 
full  speed  back  over  the  course  so  recently  traveled 
by  the  torpedo. 

"That  was  a  beautifully  timed  shot — that  last  one," 
he  informed  Cappy  Ricks  admiringly.  "If  we'd  sighted 
it  thirty  seconds  later " 

"Where  the  devil  are  you  going,  man  ?"  Cappy  yelled 
frantically. 

"I'm  going  to  give  that  fellow  a  surprise,"  Murphy 
growled.  "He  expected  us  to  run  for  it  after  that  first 
one  missed — and  I'm  running  for  him!  He  may  not 


380  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

get  me  with  the  next  one  if  I  come  bows  on — and  I 
might  ram  him!  I'll  take  a  chance.  Keep  your  eyes 
open  for  his  periscope." 

Aboard  the  V-14  Captain  Emil  Bechtel  said  nothing, 
but  thought  a  great  deal — when  he  saw  that  his  first 
torpedo  had  missed  its  prey.  He  was  in  for  it  now; 
he  had  started  something  and  he  had  to  go  through. 
And,  anticipating  that  the  Narcissus  would  show  him 
her  heels  and  steer  a  zigzag  course,  he  immediately 
launched  his  last  torpedo  as  the  horse  transport  lay 
quartering  to  him. 

To  his  disgust,  however,  the  steamer,  having  avoided 
the  first  torpedo,  did  not  run  as  he  had  anticipated. 
Instead,  she  continued  to  turn  round  on  her  heels, 
each  revolution  of  her  wheel  lifting  her  out  of  the 
course  of  the  second  torpedo,  since  the  submarine  had 
fired  slightly  ahead  of  the  vessel,  knowing  that  if  she 
continued  for  two  minutes  on  the  course  he  expected 
her  to  take  she  would  steam  fairly  across  the  path  of 
the  huge  missile.  So  he  missed  again — the  torpedo 
slid  under  her  stern — and  here  was  that  demon  horse 
transport  bearing  down  on  him  at  full  speed  and  with 
a  bone  in  her  teeth. 

"The  jig  is  up,"  murmured  Bechtel,  and  gave  the 
order  to  submerge  deeper,  for  he  would  not  risk  show 
ing  his  periscope  to  the  keen  eyes  on  that  bridge. 

For  ten  minutes  he  waited,  while  the  submarine 
scuttled  blindly  out  of  the  path  of  the  onrushing  trans 
port;  then,  concluding  that  the  Narcissus  had  passed 
him,  he  came  up  and  took  a  look  round.  He  was 
right.  A  cable  length  astern  and  another  off  his  port 
quarter  the  steamer  was  plunging  over  the  darkening 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  381 

sea,  and  Captain  Emil  Bechtel  knew  he  had  her  now; 
so  promptly  he  came  to  the  surface. 

Mike  Murphy,  glancing  off  his  starboard  quarter, 

saw  her  periscope  come  swiftly  up;  then  her  turret 

I  showed;  then  her  turtle  deck  flashed   for   a  moment 

on  the  surface,  like  a  giant  fish,  before  she  rose  higher 

and  the  water  cascaded  down  her  sides. 

Cappy  Ricks*  anxious  face  turned  a  delicate  green; 
he  glanced  up  at  his  bully  port  captain  as  if  in  that 
rugged  personality  alone  could  he  hope  for  salvation. 
Murphy  caught  the  glance,  shook  his  head,  walked 
over  to  the  engine-room  telegraph  and  set  the  handle 
over  to  stop. 

"No  use,  sir,"  he  informed  Cappy.  "That  Dutchman 
is  out  of  torpedoes,  so  he's  coming  up  to  shell  us. 
We'll  heave  to  and  save  funeral  expenses."  He  turned 
to  the  master  of  the  Narcissus.  "Captain,  I'll  stay 
on  the  bridge  and  conduct  all  negotiations  with  that  fel 
low  ;  get  your  mates,  round  up  everybody  and  prepare 
to  abandon  the  ship  in  a  hurry.  Get  the  motor  cruiser 

overside  first."  >i 

I 

As  the  captain  hurried  away,  Terence  Reardon  came 
up  on  the  bridge.  The  port  engineer's  gloomy  visage 
portended  tears,  but  through  his  narrowed  lids  Cappy 
Ricks  saw  not  tears,  but  the  light  of  murder.  Ter 
ence  did  not  speak,  but  thoughtfully  puffed  his  pipe, 
and,  with  Murphy  and  Cappy  Ricks,  watched  the  booby 
hatch  on  the  submarine's  deck  slide  back  and  her  long, 
iSlim,  three-inch  gun  appear,  like  the  tongue  of  a  huge 
viper. 

Heads  appeared  round  the  breech  of  the  gun;  so 
Michael  J.  Murphy  seized  a  megaphone  and  shouted: 


382  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

*  ^einl     Nix!"  accompanying  his  words  "with  wi] 
pantomime  that  meant  "Don't  shoot !" 

Captain  Emil  Bechtel  was  vastly  relieved.  He  wai 
not  an  inhuman  man,  even  if,  on  occasion,  as  has  al 
ready  been  demonstrated,  he  could,  for  the  sake  of 
national  expediency,  sink  a  ship  without  warning. 
Having  missed  with  both  torpedoes,  he  could  now,  in 
the  event  of  national  complications,  enter  a  vigorous 
denial  of  any  affidavits  alleging  an  attempted  breach 
of  international  law,  and  his  government  would  upholc 
him.  This  knowledge  rendered  him  both  cheerful  anc 
polite,  as  he  hove  to  some  hundred  yards  to  stai 
board  of  the  Narcissus  and  informed  Captain  Mi 
chael  J.  Murphy  that  the  latter  had  just  fifteen  minut< 
in  which  to  save  the  ship's  company;  whereat  Michael 
J.  proved  himself  every  inch  a  sailor,  while  Teren< 
P.  proved  himself  a  marine  engineer.  If  there  was 
word  of  opprobrium,  mundane  or  nautical,  which  th< 
port  skipper  didn't  shout  at  that  submarine  coi 
mander,  the  port  engineer  supplied  it.  In  all  his 
life  Cappy  Ricks  had  never  listened  to  such  rich,  racy, 
unctuous  abuse;  it  lifted  itself  about  the  level  of  th( 
commonplace  and  became  a  work  of  art.  Cap 
was  horrified. 

"Boys!     Boys!"  he  pleaded.     "This  is  frightful!" 

"What  do  you  expect  from  a  German,  sir?"  Murphy 
demanded.  "Frightfulness  is  his  middle  name." 

"I  mean  you  two — and  your  language.      Stop  it 
You'll  contaminate  me." 

"Well,  sor,"  Terence  Reardon  replied  philosophically, 
"I  suppose  there's  small  use  cryin'  over  spilt  milk — 
musha,  what  are  they  up  to  now?" 

"They're    dragging    a    collapsible    boat    up    from 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  383 

below,"  Mike  Murphy  declared.  "That  means  they're 
going  to  board  us,  place  bombs  in  the  bilges,  and  sink 
us  that  way.  They  know  blamed  well  we've  wirelessed 
for  help  and  a  patrol  has  answered ;  so  that " 

"No  profanity !"  Cappy  shrilled. 

"So  he  has  decided  he  won't  try  to  sink  us  by 
shell  fire  with  such  a  small  gun.  It'll  be  dark  in  five 
minutes  and  he's  afraid  the  flame  of  the  discharge 
or  the  reports  of  the  gun  may  guide  the  patrol  boat 
here  before  he's  finished  his  job.  Oh,  wirra,  wirra!" 

Murphy's  surmise  proved  to  be  correct,  for  he  had 
scarcely  finished  speaking  before  the  submarine  com 
mander  hailed  him  and  ordered  him  to  let  down  his 
gangway.  Terence  P.  Reardon's  eyes  flamed  with  the 
lust  for  battle. 

"Be  the  great  gun  av  Athlone,"  he  cried,  "if  they're 
comin'  aboard  sure  we  can  get  at  them !" 

Murphy's  rage  vanished  as  suddenly  as  it  had  gripped 
him;  he  smiled  at  Terence  affectionately,  approvingly. 

"You  with  your  monkey  wrench,  eh,  Terry,  my  lad? 
And  they  with  automatic  pistols  and  wishful  of  an 
excuse  to  use  them,  not  to  mention  the  nitroglycerin 
and  guncotton  bombs  they'll  be  carrying — a  divilish 
bad  thing  to  have  kicking  round  in  a  free-for-all  fight  ?" 
he  queried. 

Terry's  face  showed  his  deep  disappointment. 

"They'll  see  us  all  in  the  boats,"  Murphy  continued ; 
"then  they'll  go  below,  set  the  bombs,  light  a  slow 
fuse  to  give  them  time  to  get  back  to  the  submarine — 
and  then " 

"With  all  these  poor  dumb  beasts  aboard?"  Cappy 
Ricks  quavered.  "Horrible!  Horrible!  I  could  kill 
them  for  it." 


384 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


"I  could  kill  them  for  a  greater  crime  than  that,"  his 
port  captain  reminded  him.  "Didn't  they  try  twice 
to  sink  us  without  warning?  Damn  them!  They're 
forty  fathoms  outside  the  law  this  minute." 


CHAPTER  LIII 

For  the  first  time  in  his  life  Cappy  Ricks  was  in 
financial  and  physical  danger  coincidently.  Old  he 
was,  and  a  landlubber,  for  all  his  courtesy  title ;  but  in 
his  veins  there  coursed  the  blood  of  a  long  line  of 
fighting  ancestors.  It  occurred  to  him  now  that  in 
all  his  life  he  had  never  cried  "Enough;"  that  always, 
when  cornered  and  presumably  beaten,  he  had  gone 
into  executive  session  with  himself  and,  fox  that  he  was, 
schemed  a  way  out.  In  this  supreme  moment  there 
came  to  him  now  the  words  of  the  gallant  Lawrence: 
"Don't  give  up  the  ship !"  They  inspired  him ;  his 
agile  old  brain,  benumbed  by  the  shock  of  the  excit 
ing  events  of  the  last  quarter  of  an  hour,  threw  off 
its  paralysis;  his  little  five-feet-four  body  thrilled  with 
the  impact  of  a  sudden  brilliant  idea. 

"I  have  it!"  he  piped.  "By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed 
IProphet,  it  might  be  done!  Mike,  the  submarine  lies 
to  starboard.  Tell  the  mate  to  lower  the  port  gang 
way." 

Murphy  ran  out  on  the  end  of  the  bridge  and  bawled 
the  order.  Then  he  came  back,  and  he  and  Terence  and 
Cappy  Ricks  put  their  heads  together  while  in  brief, 
illuminating  sentences  Cappy  Ricks  unfolded  the  fruit 
of  his  genius. 

"Tell  me,"  he  pleaded  when  he  had  finished,  "is  that 
scheme  practicable?" 

"It  might  be  done,  sir,"  Mike  Murphy  assented. 
385 


686  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"I'll  thry  anything  the  wanst,"  Terry  Reardon  al 
most  barked. 

"It  means  some  fighting — probably  some  killing." 

"Sorra  wan  av  me'll  feel  broken-hearted  at  killin'  the 
likes  av  that  Dutchman,"  Terry  answered.  "Shtill, 
we'll  be  needin'  jsome  help,  I'm  thinkin'." 

"We'll  get  it,  or  I'm  no  judge  of  human  nature. 
Mike,  pass  the  word  for  Sam  Daniels,  the  boss  of  mule 
teers  and  broncho  busters.  Sam  used  to  be  a  Texas 
Ranger." 

Accordingly  Sam  Daniels  was  sent  for  and  arrived 
on  the  jump. 

"Sam,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Gappy  calmly,  "I'm  en 
listing  volunteers  to  raise  hell  with  that  submarine. 
They're  going  to  put  bombs  in  the  bilges  and  blow  up 
the  ship." 

"Count  me  in,  Cap,"  Sam  Daniels  replied  laconically. 
"Want  me  to  rustle  up  a  couple  of  the  boys  ?" 

"Yes,  about  three  real  ones — boys  that  are  handy 
with  a  six-shooter." 

"I  guess  most  of  the  boys  from  the  border  have  their 
guns  in  their  war  bags.  I'll  go  get  them  together." 

He  did — in  about  three  minutes ;  by  which  time  the 
collapsible  boat  from  the  submarine  had  been  launched 
and  was  pulling  toward  the  Narcissus.  While  her 
master  directed  them  to  pull  round  to  the  port  gang 
way,  Sam  Daniels  slipped  down  unobserved  into  Num 
ber  Three  hatch,  two  of  his  horse  wranglers  disappeared 
with  an  equal  lack  of  ostentation  down  the  gangway 
into  Number  Two  hatch,  and  a  third  man  went  for 
ward  and  down  Number  One.  The  trap  was  set. 

A  stout  young  lieutenant  clad  in  soiled  dungarees, 
his  uniform  cap  alone  denoting  his  rank,  came  briskly 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  387 

up  the  companion,  followed  by  four  jackies  carrying 
the  bombs.  A  fifth  man  remained  in  the  boat,  fending 
it  away  with  a  boat  hook  from  the  tall  black  side  of 
the  Narcissus. 

"Who  commands  here?"  the  German  demanded  in 
most  excellent  English. 

"I  do,"  the  master  of  the  Narcissus  replied,  and 
stepped  a  pace  forward. 

"Then  hurry  and  get  your  boats  overside.  We're 
going  to  bomb  the  ship,  and  if  anybody  remains  aboard 
when  those  bombs  explode  it  will  be  his  fault,  not 
ours." 

The  motor  cruiser  ftad  already  been  dropped  over 
board,  and  the  life-boats,  having  been  for  two  days 
swung  out  in  the  davits,  were  quickly  filled  and  lowered 
away.  As  each  boat  pulled  clear  of  the  ship  the  man 
in  charge  of  it  was  ordered  by  the  submarine  lieutenant 
to  stay  to  port  of  the  Narcissus,  and  to  pull  well  clear 
of  the  ship  before  proceeding  to  pass  the  towing 
painters  to  the  cruiser. 

"Are  all  your  men  off  the  ship?"  the  officer  queried 
of  the  skipper  as  the  latter  entered  the  last  boat  and 
gave  the  order  to  lower  away. 

"All  off;  I've  accounted  for  all  of  them,"  was  the 
answer. 

The  German  waited  until  the  boat  had  slipped  away 
in  the  gloom  before  turning  to  his  command. 

"Proceed !"  he  said  briefly ;  and,  followed  by  his  four 
men,  he  led  the  way  down  the  cleated  temporary  gang- 
w&y  built  diagonally  down  Number  Three  hatch  to  ac 
commodate  the  horses  when  they  had  been  led  aboard. 

The  better  to  facilitate  their  progress,  Terence 
Reardon  had  turned  on  all  the  electric  lights  in  the  ship, 


388  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

and  the  detail  proceeded  quickly  to  the  lower  hold, 
where  they  set  two  bombs  and  piled  double-compressed 
baled  hay  round  them,  with  the  fuse  leading  out  from 
under  the  bales.  In  addition  to  blowing  a  hole  in 
the  ship  they  were  taking  the  added  precaution  of 
setting  her  afire  after  the  explosion. 

From  the  spot  where  the  bombs  were  set  a  long 
alleyway,  lined  on  each  side  with  the  rumps  of  horses, 
each  neatly  boxed  in  a  stall  just  wide  enough  and 
long  enough  to  inclose  him  firmly  and  hold  him  on  his 
feet  in  the  event  of  rough  weather,  led  forward  and 
aft  to  the  bulkheads.  And  in  one  of  these  stalls,  close 
up  against  the  rump  of  a  horse  he  could  trust,  Sam 
Daniels,  the  ex-Texas  Ranger,  crouched,  with  one  eye 
round  the  corner  of  the  stall,  calmly  watching  the  grim 
proceedings.  Something  told  him  that,  having  ar 
ranged  the  bombs  in  that  hold,  the  enemy  would  not 
light  the  fuses  until  he  had  set  similar  bombs  at  the 
bottom  of  the  other  hatches ;  then,  all  being  in  readi 
ness,  a  man  would  be  sent  into  each  hold  to  light  the 
fuse,  scurry  on  deck,  descend  to  the  waiting  boat,  and 
be  pulled  clear  of  danger  before  the  fuses  should  burn 
down  to  the  fulminating  caps. 

So  Daniels  waited  until  the  men  were  about  to  pick 
up  the  remaining  bombs  and  ascend  to  the  deck ;  where 
upon  he  stepped  quietly  out  into  the  alleyway,  a  long- 
barreled  forty-five  in  his  hand,  and  pussyfooted  swiftly 
toward  the  Germans,  whose  backs  were  now  turned 
toward  him.  Halfway  down  the  alleyway,  on  one  of  the 
heavy  six-by-six-inch  uprights  temporarily  set  in  to 
support  the  weight  of  the  hundred  mules  on  the  deck 
above,  was  the  electric  switch  controlling  the  circuit 
in  that  hold — and  Sam  Daniels  reached  up  and  turned 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  389 

it  down.  Instantly  the  hold  was  in  darkness;  and 
then  the  horseman  spoke: 

"Hey,  you  Dutchies !  Stay  right  where  you  are !  I 
want  to  have  a  little  powwow  with  you  before  you  go 
any  farther." 

Having  said  this,  the  astute  Mr.  Daniels,  out  of  a 
vast  experience  gained  while  fighting  Mexicans  and) 
outlaws  in  the  dark,  promptly  lay  down.  In  case  the 
enemy  should  become  rattled  and  fire  at  the  sound 
of  his  voice  he  preferred  to  have  plenty  of  room 
for  the  bullets  to  pass  over  him. 

"Who's  there?"  the  lieutenant  demanded  in  English; 
and  by  the  firm,  resolute  voice  the  Texan  knew  that 
the  German  was  not  rattled  and  that  his  men  would  not 
fire  unless  he  gave  the  word. 

"Great  thing,  this  naval  discipline!"  Mr.  Daniels 
soliloquized.  Aloud  he  replied: 

"The  fastest,  straightest  little  wing  shot  with  a  six 
shooter  that  ever  was,  old-timer !" 

"What  do  you  purpose  doing,  my  friend?" 

"I  purpose  giving  you  some  good  advice;  though 
whether  you  accept  it  or  not  is  a  matter  of  indiffer 
ence  to  me.  You  will  observe  that  this  hold  is  in  com 
parative  darkness.  I  say  comparative,  because  through 
the  hatch  space  a  certain  amount  of  light  is  projected 
from  the  deck  above,  and  you  and  your  men  are  stand 
ing  in  that  light,  whereas  I  am  in  the  dark.  I  can  see 
you  and  you  cannot  see  me.  I  have  a  forty-five  caliber 
revolver  in  my  hand  and  another  in  reserve.  There  are 
five  of  you  fellows,  constituting  a  fair  target — and  I 
seldom  miss  a  fair  target.  I  can  kill  all  five  of  you  in 
five  seconds.  Of  course  some  of  you  may  manage  to  fire 
at  the  flash  of  my  gun  and  accidentally  kill  me;  but — 


390  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

make  no  mistake  about  it,  son — I'll  get  you  and  your 
gang  before  I  kick  the  bucket.  Now,  then,  which  do 
you  want  to  do — live  or  die?  I'm  going  to  be  fair 
to  you  fellows  and  give  you  some  choice  in  the  matter — 
which  is  more  than  you  did  when  you  launched  those 
two  torpedoes  at  us.  Speak  up,  brother!  I'm  a  ner 
vous  man  and  dislike  suspense." 

The  German  lieutenant  glanced  at  his  men,  who  had 
not  yet  touched  the  other  bombs  and  were  looking 
stolidly  at  him  for  orders.  He  licked  his  lower  lip  and 
scowled,  sighed  gustily — and  made  a  swift  grab  for 
his  automatic.  A  streak  of  flame  came  out  of  the 
dark  alleyway  and  the  German's  arm  hung  limp  at  his 
side.  He  had  a  bullet  in  his  shoulder. 

"Told  you  I  was  a  wing  shot !"  the  plainsman  cau 
tioned  him  pleasantly.     "I  would  havp  put  that  one 
through  your  heart  if  I  didn't  need  an  interpreter.     I 
imagine  these  roustabouts  with  you  only  speak  their . 
mother  tongue." 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  do?" 

"Well,  first,  I  want  you  to  leave  that  high  explosive 
right  where  it  is.  Then  I  want  you  to  deposit  all  your 
sidearms  on  the  floor,  and  have  your  men  do  likewise." 

The  German  had  had  his  lesson  and  arrived  at  the 
conclusion  that  valor  without  discretion  is  not  good 
business.  He  slipped  his  belt  off  and  let  it  drop  to  the 
floor;  at  a  word  from  him  his  men  did  likewise,  where 
upon  Daniels  stood  up,  threw  on  the  electric  switch, 
and  revealed  himself  and  his  artillery  to  the  gaze  of  the 
invaders. 

"Forward ;  in  a  bunch,  up  the  gangway !"  he  ordered. 

They  obeyed.  As  the  Texan  passed  the  little  heap 
of  belts,  with  the  automatics  in  the  holsters  attached, 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  391 

he  gathered  them  up  and  followed.  Just  before  the 
procession  reached  the  main  deck  he  halted  them  and 
whistled — whereupon  Michael  J.  Murphy,  Terence  P. 
Reardon  and  Gappy  Ricks  came  to  the  edge  of  the 
hatch  and  peered  over. 

"Well,  look  who's  here!"  Gappy  exclaimed  mali 
ciously.  "Five  nice  little  pirates,  who  would  sink  my 
Narcissus  without  so  much  as  a  be-damned  to  you! 
Mike,  bring  the  irons.  Terence,  my  boy,  restrain 
yourself.  If  you  use  that  monkey  wrench  until  I 
give  the  word  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company  will 
have  a  new  port  engineer.  Undress  these  fellows.  Just 
remove  their  caps  and  outer  garments — and  be  quick 
about  it." 

"Tell  them  to  molt — muy  pronto!"  Sam  Daniels 
ordered  the  %utenant,  who  relayed  the  order  in  a 
voice  that  had  in  it  a  suspicion  of  tears. 

In  three  minutes  they  were  undressed  and  handcuffed 
together;  leg  irons  were  put  on  them,  and  they  were 
expeditiously  gagged  and  chained  to  a  stanchion. 

"Now  then,  Terence,  I  have  work  for  you  and  your 
monkey  wrench,"  Gappy  continued.  "You're  about  the 
same  size  as  this  officer.  Into  his  dungarees  and  uni 
form  cap ;  and  don't  forget  to  slip  on  his  belt,  with  the 
automatic." 

"In  two  shakes  av  a  lamb's  tail,  sor.     What  next?" 

"As  you  run  down  the  gangway  to  the  waiting  boat, 
hold  your  handkerchief  over  that  Irish  mug  of  yours. 
Pretend  you're  blowing  your  nose.  The  man  in  the 
boat  won't  recognize  you  until  you're  on  top  of  him." 

"Wan  little  love  tap — no  more!"  Terence  breathed 
lovingly. 

"When  Terence  has  tapped  him,  Sam,"  Gappy  con- 


392  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

tinued,  "you  go  down  and  help  to  get  him  out  on  the 
landing  stage.  He'll  be  off  our  hands  there  and  the 
submarine  people  cannot  see  what's  happened  to  him. 
They're  still  lying  on  our  starboard  beam.'* 

Terence  and  the  deadly  Samuel  disappeared,  to  re 
turn  presently  and  report  all  well.  Thereupon  Mi 
chael  J.  Murphy  retired  to  the  port  side  of  the  house, 
lit  a  kerosene  torch  he  had  brought  up  from  the  engine 
room  and  waved  it.  He  waited.  Presently,  in  the 
gloom  off  to  port,  he  saw  the  red  and  green  side 
lights  of  the  little  cruiser.  For  a  moment  both  lights 
were  visible;  then  the  master  of  the  Narcissus,,  now  in 
charge  of  the  cruiser,  ported  his  helm  and  showed  his 
red  only.  Murphy  waited,  and  presently  both  red 
and  green  showed  again. 

"Starboard  now,  and  show  your  green,"  Murphy 
pleaded. 

The  red  went  out  and  the  green  alone  showed;  so 
Mike  Murphy  extinguished  his  torch  and  rejoined 
Cappy  Ricks,  Terence  and  the  ubiquitous  Mr.  Dan 
iels. 

"Sam,  my  dear  boy,"  Cappy  was  saying  as  Murphy 
came  up,  "Mike  and  Terence  own  in  the  Narcissus  and 
they  work  for  me — hence  their  alliance.  You  owe  me 
no  fealty " 

"The  hell  I  don't,  Cap!"  Sam  retorted  lightly. 
"You're  a  fine  old  sport,  and  I'm  for  you  till  the  last 
dog  is  hung." 

"Sam,  I  am  deeply  grateful.  Your  friendship  is 
very  dear  to  me  indeed.  I  have  a  twenty-two-thousand 
acre  ranch  down  in  Monterey  County,  California — • 
don't  know  why  I  bought  it,  unless  it  was  because  it 
was  a  bargain  and  ranch  property  in  California  is 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  393 

bound  to  increase  in  value — and  you're  my  foreman  if 
we  ever  get  out  of  this  with  a  whole  skin.  I'll  make  it 
the  best  job  you  ever  had,  Sam." 

"Thank  you,  Mr.  Ricks!"  A  moment  before  it 
had  been  Cap.  "If  you  never  saw  a  man  fight  for  a 
.good  job  before,  just  watch  me!" 


CHAPTER  LIV 

The  horse  tenders  in  the  other  holds  were  summoned 
and  informed  that  for  the  present  the  Narcissus  would 
not  be  bombed.  Quickly  two  of  them,  with  Mike  Mur 
phy  and  Sam  Daniels,  donned  the  dungarees  and  caps  of 
the  prisoners  and  strapped  on  their  belts  containing  the 
automatics  in  their  holsters.  In  the  interim  Terence 
had  descended  to  the  collapsible  boat  bumping  at 
the  gangway  and  fended  her  off  until  Sam  Daniels, 
the  two  cowboys  and  Mike  Murphy  joined  him;  where 
upon  Terence  took  one  pair  of  oars,  while  Murphy 
handled  the  other,  and  the  boat  crept  out  from  the 
steamer  and  headed  directly  for  the  submarine,  which 
had  been  ratching  backward  and  forward  under  a  dead- 
slow  bell,  watching  the  towering  black  hulk  of  the 
Narcissus  rolling  idly.  A  light  showed  on  the  turret  of 
the  submarine,  outlining  vaguely  the  figures  of  half  a 
dozen  men  on  her  small  deck. 

The  disposition  of  Mike  Murphy's  forces  was  such 
that  the  chances  of  the  enemy  detecting  the  substitu 
tion  of  the  boarding  party  before  it  should  reach  the 
submersible  were  reduced  to  a  minimum.  In  the 
bow  of  the  collapsible  one  of  the  cowboys  sat,  facing 
the  stern;  Terence  and  Mike  also  faced  the  stern,  by 
reason  of  the  fact  that  they  were  rowing;  and  Sam 
Daniels  and  the  other  cowboy,  seated  in  the  stern 
sheets,  were  under  orders  to  turn  and  look  back  at  the 
Narcissus  as  the  boat  came  within  the  radius  of  the 

394 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  395 

meager  light  from  the  submarine's  turret.  Thus  they 
ran  little  risk  of  premature  discovery. 

"For,"  as  Cappy  Ricks  sagely  reminded  them  just  be 
fore  they  pulled  away  from  the  Narcissus,  "the  German 
is  both  cautious  and  cocksure.  The  capture  of  his  bomb 
ing  party  has  been  effected  without  a  sound;  the  com 
mander  saw  our  men  leave  the  steamer  in  the  boats ;  he 
sees  the  Narcissus  now  not  under  command  and  wallow 
ing;  he  figures  that  all  is  lovely  and  the  goose  honks 
high.  Therefore,  he  will  be  off  his  guard,  since  his 
suspicions  have  not  been  roused.  His  deck  is  very  dimly 
lighted  by  that  single  light  on  the  turret,  and  he  knows 
that  light  is  sufficient  to  guide  the  boat  party  back  to 
the  submarine.  There  is  no  sea  running  to  speak  of; 
so  it  will  not  be  necessary  for  him  to  turn  his  search 
light  on  you  to  light  the  way  for  you. 

"Moreover,  he  will  not  care  to  use  his  searchlight,  be 
cause  it  may  guide  a  patrol  boat  to  this  spot,  and 
Terence  has  very  carefully  turned  out  all  the  lights 
on  the  ship  which  might  be  visible  from  a  distance, 
because  that  is  precisely  what  that  lieutenant  would 
or  should  have  done  if  we  had  given  him  time.  And 
when  you  row  toward  that  submarine,  row  like  the 
devil,  because  that's  the  way  the  bombing  party  would 
row  in  their  hurry  to  board  the  submarine  and  steam 
clear  of  the  explosion.  It  is  my  guess  that  the  instant 
you  heave  alongside  you  will  be  snagged  with  boat 
hooks  by  the  men  on  her  deck.  In  the  excitement  of 
making  a  quick  get-away  nobody  will  be  looking  into 
your  faces,  anyhow ;  they'll  see  your  familiar  dungaree 
suits  and  caps ;  some  of  them  may  even  give  you  a  hand 
to  help  you  when  you  leap  aboard.  Do  not  despise  such 
help ;  just  extend  your  left  hands  and  before  you  let 


396  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

go  the  enemy's  right  bend  your  guns — and  you,  Terry, 
your  monkey  wrench — over  their  heads.  You'll  have 
the  deck  in  a  pig's  whisper !  Then,  Mike,  the  rest  is  up 
to  you.  I've  made  the  ball ;  now  you  fire  it. 

"I  take  it  the  submarine  will  be  in  such  a  hurry  to  get 
away  that  all  the  men  on  her  deck  will  reach  down 
and  snake  the  boat  in ;  once  out  of  danger,  they'll  plan 
on  knocking  that  collapsible  down  and  storing  it  away 
at  their  leisure.  Tackle  'em  while  they're  busy  with  the 
boat — provided  you  get  aboard  unsuspected.  Terence, 
remember  to  shout  the  minute  you  go  into  action — and 
I'll  give  you  fighting  light." 

Following  these  instructions,  Cappy  had  very  sol 
emnly  shaken  hands  all  round  and  departed  for  the 
bridge,  where  he  removed  the  canvas  covering  from 
the  searchlight,  bent  the  reflector  toward  the  submarine, 
and  waited,  with  his  nervous  old  finger  on  the  switch. 

In  pursuance  of  Cappy  Ricks'  instructions,  Mike 
Murphy  and  Terence  Reardon  rowed  furiously  toward 
the  submarine — so  furiously,  indeed,  that  the  harsh 
grating  of  their  oars  in  the  rowlocks  apprised  Captain 
Emil  Bechtel  of  their  approach  some  seconds  before 
the  boat  was  visible.  At  his  brisk  command  the  men 
on  deck  stepped  down  to  the  low  pipe  railing  on  the 
port  side  of  the  deck,  prepared  to  snag  the  boat  the 
instant  she  drew  alongside.  When  he  could  hear  the 
sound  of  the  commander's  voice,  Mike  Murphy  chanced 
a  quick  look  over  his  shoulder,  noted  the  position  of 
the  submarine,  and  turned  his  head  again. 

"Four  more  strokes,  Terry;  then  ship  your  oars," 
he  cautioned  the  engineer  in  a  low  voice. 

At  the  fourth  stroke  Terence  obediently  shipped 
his  oars ;  with  a  deft  twist  of  one  oar,  Murphy  straight- 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  397 

ened  the  boat  and  shot  neatly  in  alongside  the  sub 
marine,  the  deck  of  which  was  less  than  three  feet 
above  the  water.  As  Cappy  Ricks  had  anticipated, 
the  men  on  that  deck  promptly  snagged  the  boat  at 
bow  and  stern  with  boat  hooks — and  on  the  instant 
Cappy  Ricks'  bully  boys  leaped  for  their  prey. 

As  luck  would  have  it,  Terence  P.  Reardon  was  the 
only  one  offered  a  helping  hand — and  he  did  not  despise 
it;  neither  did  he  forget  Cappy's  last  instructions. 
With  neatness  and  ample  force  he  brought  his  monkey 
wrench  down  on  the  German's  skull ;  and  then  to  Cappy 
Ricks,  waiting  on  the  bridge  of  the  Narcissus,  came 
the  ancient  Irish  battlecry  of  Faugh-a-ballagh!  For 
the  benefit  of  those  not  versed  in  the  ways  of  the 
fighting  Celt,  be  it  known  that  Faugh-a-ballagh  means 
Clear  the  Road.  And  history  records  but  few  instances 
when  Irish  soldiery  have  raised  that  cry  and  rushed 
without  clearing  a  pathway. 

The  fight  was  too  short  and  savage  for  description. 
Suffice  it  to  say  that  not  a  shot  was  fired — the  work  was 
too  close  for  that,  for  the  surprise  had  been  complete. 
Even  before  Cappy  Ricks  could  focus  the  steamer's 
searchlight  on  the  fracas,  it  was  over.  Terence  P. 
Reardon  got  two  in  two  strokes  of  his  trusty  monkey 
wrench ;  Sam  Daniels  and  his  two  fellow-bronco-busters 
each  laid  open  a  German  scalp  with  the  long  barrels  of 
their  forty-fives ;  and  Michael  J.  Murphy,  plain  lunatic- 
;j  crazy  with  rage,  disdaining  all  but  Nature's  weapons, 
tied  into  the  amazed  Captain  Emil  Bechtel  under  the 
rules  of  the  Longshoremen's  Union — which  is  to  state 
that  Michael  J.  Murphy  clinched  Emil  Bechtel,  lifted 
him,  set  him  down  hard  on  his  plump  back,  crawled  him, 
knelt  on  his  arms,  and  addressed  him  in  these  words : 


398  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Hah!  (A  right  jab  to  the  face.)  You  would, 
would  you?  (Left  jab  to  face.)  You  pig-iron  polisher! 
(Bending  the  nose  back  forcibly  with  the  heel  of  his 
fist.)  When  I  get  (smash)  through  with  your  (smash) 
head  (smash)  it'll  be  long  (smash)  before  you'll  block 
(smash)  your  hat  again  (smash)  on  the  Samson  post, 
you " 

"Out  av  me  way,  Michael,  lad,  till  I  get  a  kick  at 
his  slats  !"  crooned  Terence  P.  Reardon,  heaving 
alongside. 

"You  gossoon !  Take  care  of  the  scuttle ;  don't  let 
them  close  it  down,  or  they'll  submerge  and  drown  us. 
Leave  this  lad  to  me,  I  tell  you.  He's  the  captain,  and 
why  shouldn't  he  be  killed  by  one  of  his  own  rank?" 

Thus  rebuked,  Terence  curbed  his  blood-thirsty  pro 
clivities.  Leaving  his  countryman  to  beat  his  devil's 
tattoo  on  the  submarine  commander,  Terence  leaped  to 
the  open  scuttle  just  in  time  to  bang  another  head  as 
it  appeared  on  a  level  with  the  deck. 

"Let  that  be  a  lesson  to  you !"  he  called  as  the  uncon 
scious  man  slid  back  down  the  companion  into  the 
interior  of  the  vessel. 

Then  he  sat  on  the  lid  of  the  scuttle,  poised  his 
monkey  wrench  on  high  over  the  scuttle,  and  awaited 
developments,  the  while  he  tossed  an '  order  over  his 
shoulder  to  Sam  Daniels: 

"Bring  me  the  bum!" 

"Which  one?"  Mr.  Daniels  queried. 

"The  German  bum,  av  coorse,"  Terence  retorted 
waspishly. 

"But  all  these  bums  are  Germans " 

"Not  that  kind  av  a  bum !"  howled  Terence.  "I  mean 
the  bum  in  the  boat." 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  399 

Thus  enlightened,  Sam  brought  a  bomb  from  the 
boat  and  handed  it  to  the  engineer.  In  the  interim 
Mike  Murphy  had  polished  off  his  man  to  his  entire 
satisfaction  and  joined  Terence  at  the  scuttle,  while 
one  of  the  horse  wranglers,  a  cool  individual  and  a  firm 
believer  in  safety  first,  collected  the  weapons  from  the 
fallen. 

Mike  Murphy  approached  the  scuttle  and  bawled 
down  it  to  the  amazed  and  puzzled  crew  below.  As  a 
linguist  Mike  was  no  great  shakes,  particularly  when 
called  upon  to  juggle  German;  but  he  was  a  resolute 
fellow  and  not  afraid  to  do  his  best  at  all  times.  Con 
sequently  his  hail  took  the  form  of  "Hey!  Lands- 
mann!" 

Something  told  Terence  Reardon  that  Michael  was 
through ;  so  he  added  his  mite  to  the  store  and  bellowed : 

"Spreckeh  die  deutsch,  ye  blackguards  ?" 

Then  both  sat  back  to  await  developments.  Pres 
ently  a  voice  at  the  foot  of  the  companion  said: 

"Hello  dere!    Vat  iss?" 

"Vat  iss?  Hell  iss!  Dot's  vat!  Listen  to  me,  you 
Dutchy.  I'm  the  skipper  of  that  horse  transport  your 
commander  tried  to  sink  without  warning,  and  I'm  in 
command  of  the  deck  of  this  craft,  with  the  scuttle 
open ;  and  you  can't  submerge  and  wash  me  off,  either. 
When  I  give  the  word  I  want  you  and  your  men  to 
come  up,  one  at  a  time  and  no  crowding.  And  if  you're 
not  up  five  minutes  after  I  order  you  up  I'll  not  wait ; 
I'll  set  a  bomb  in  your  turret,  back  off  in  the  small 
boat  and  kill  with  revolvers  any  man  that  tries  to  come 
up  and  see  where  the  fuse  is  burning  in  order  to  put 
it  out.  Do  you  surrender,  or  would  you  rather  die?" 


400  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Vait  a  minute  und  I  find  oud,"  the  German  answered 
promptly. 

It  required  five  minutes  for  a  council  of  war  below 
decks ;  then  the  interpreter  came  to  the  foot  of  the 
companion  and  informed  Mike  Murphy  that,  consider 
ing  the  circumstances,  they  had  decided  to  live.  In  the 
interim  the  skipper  of  the  Narcissus  had  arrived,  with 
re-enforcements,  in  the  cruiser,  and  reported  that  his 
crew  was  getting  back  aboard  the  steamer  as  fast  as 
possible  and  would  have  her  under  command  again  in 
a  minute.  At  Murphy's  order  the  unconscious  Germans 
were  put  aboard  the  cruiser ;  later,  when  the  remainder 
of  the  submersible's  crew  came  up,  one  at  a  time, 
they  were  disarmed  and  lined  up  on  the  little  deck; 
whereupon  Michael  J.  Murphy  addressed  their  spokes 
man  thus : 

"Listen — you!  It  would  be  just  like  you  to  have  set 
a  time  bomb  somewhere  in  this  submarine  to  blow  her 
up  after  you  were  all  safely  out  of  her.  If  you  did 
you  made  a  grave  tactical  error.  You're  not  going 
to  leave  her  for  quite  a  while  yet.  You're  going  to 
sit  quietly  here  on  deck,  under  guard,  while  the 
steamer  hooks  on  to  this  submarine  and  tows  her ;  and  if 
my  prize  crew  is  blown  up,  remember,  you " 

The  spokesman — he  was  the  chief  engineer,  by  the 
way — yelled  "Ach,  Gott!"  and  leaped  for  the  scuttle. 
Mike  Murphy  followed  him  into  the  engine  room  in 
time  to  see  him  stamp  out  a  long  length  of  slow- 
burning  fuse. 

"Any  more?"  Murphy  queried. 

"Dot  von  vas  sufficient,  if  it  goes  off,"  the  German 
answered  simply. 

"All   right!"   Mike  Murphy   replied.      "I'll   take   a 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  401 

chance  and  so  will  you.  You'll  stay  aboard  and  run 
those  oil  engines." 

Half  an  hour  later  with  the  submarine's  crew  safely 
under  lock  and  key  on  the  Narcissus,  the  big  freighter 
continued  on  her  course,  followed  by  the  captured  sub 
marine,  with  Michael  J.  Murphy  in  her  turret  and  a 
quartermaster  from  the  Narcissus  at  her  helm.  In  the 
engine  room  her  own  engineer  grudgingly  explained  to. 
Terence  P.  Reardon  the  workings  of  an  oil  engine  and 
the  ramifications  of  the  electric-light  system — and  dur 
ing  all  of  that  period  the  deadly  monkey  wrench  never 
left  the  port  engineer's  hand. 

Sam  Daniels  and  his  comrades  were  once  more  back 
aboard  the  Narcissus,  attending  to  the  horses;  and 
Cappy  Ricks,  his  heart  so  filled  with  pride  that  it  was 
like  to  burst,  occupied  the  submarine's  turret  with  the 
doughty  Michael  J.  For  an  hour  they  discussed  the 
marvelous  coup  until  there  was  no  angle  of  it  left 
undiscussed;  whereupon  fell  a  silence,  with  Michael 
J.'s  eyes  fixed  on  the  dark  bulk  ahead  that  marked  the 
Narcissus,  and  Cappy's  thoughts  on  what  Matt  Peas- 
ley  and  Mr.  Skinner  would  say  when  they  heard  the 
glorious  news. 

For  nearly  an  hour  not  a  word  passed  between  the 
pair. 

Presentty  Cappy's  regular  breathing  drew  Murphy's 
attention  to  him.  He  had  fallen  asleep  in  his  seat,  his 
chin  bent  on  his  old  breast,  a  little  half-smile  on  his 
lips.  And  as  Murphy  looked  at  him  pridefully  Cappy 
spoke  in  his  sleep : 

"Holy  sailor!     How  Mike  Murphy  can  swear!" 

Terence  P.  Reardon  came  to  the  foot  of  the  little 
spiral  staircase  leading  to  the  turret. 


402  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Michael,  me  lad,"  he  announced,  "the  internal-com 
bustion  ile  ingin'  is  the  marine  ingin'  av  the  future. 
They're  as  simple  as  two  an*  two  is  four.  Listen,  avicl 
Does  she  not  run  like  a  twenty-four-jewel  watch?  An' 
this  man  that  invinted  thim  was  a  Ger-r-man — more 
power  to  him!  Faith,  Fm  thinkin'  if  the  Ger-r-mans 
were  as  great  in  war  as  they  are  in  peace  'twould  need 
more  nor  the  Irish  to  take  the  measure  av  thim!" 

"Irish?"  Mike  Murphy  answered  irritably.  "Ter 
ence,  quit  your  bragging!  God  knows  the  Irish  are 
great " 

"The  greatest  in  the  wide,  wide  wur-rld!"  Terence 
declared,  with  all  the  egotism  of  his  race. 

"Whist,  Terry!  There's  a  little  old  Yankee  man 
aboard ;  if  you  wake  him  up  he'll  call  you  a  liar." 

"The  darlin*  ould  fox !"  Terry  murmured  affection 
ately,  and  went  back  to  his  engines. 


CHAPTER  LV 

The  entire  office  force  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company  and  the  Ricks  Lumber  and  Logging  Company 
had  assembled  in  the  general  office  to  greet  Cappy 
Ricks,  Mike  Murphy  and  Terence  Reardon  upon  their 
return  from  Europe,  and  to  hear  at  first  hand  the 
story  of  their  wanderings  and  adventures.  And  when 
the  wondrous  tale  had  been  told,  and  business  was  once 
more  resumed,  Matt  Peasley,  Mr.  Skinner,  Mike  and 
Terence  convened  in  Cappy  Ricks'  office  for  further  dis 
cussion. 

"We  sent  that  half  million  dollars  to  New  York  to  be 
transferred  to  the  credit  of  the  French  Government 
when  the  bill  of  sale  for  that  steamer  should  be  deposited 
with  the  bank  there,"  Matt  remarked  presently.  "What 
kind  of  a  vessel  did  you  buy,  Cappy?  What  are  her 
dimensions  ?" 

"What  kind  of  a  ship  did  I  buy?"  Cappy  piped. 
"Hum-m-m!  A  ship  is  good.  I  bought  four;  and — 
believe  me! — they're  no  skiffs,  either.  All  of  them  are 
big  foreign-going  steel  tramps,  with  lots  of  speed  and 
power." 

"Four  for  half  a  million  dollars  ?"  Matt  Peasley  cried 
unbelievingly. 

"They  would  have  cost  anybody  else  a  million  and  a 
half;  but — er — well,  you  see,  Matt,  I  had  a  stand-in 
with  the  right  people.  The  four  vessels  I  bought  were 
all  prizes  of  war — German  merchantmen  converted  into 

403 


404  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

commerce  raiders,  which  had  slipped  through  the  cor 
don  of  British  cruisers  and  got  into  the  North  Atlantic, 
where  French  cruisers  overhauled  them  and  brought 
them  into  port.  They  were  all  there  and  up  for  sale 
to  the  highest  bidder  when  we  got  there  with  the  horses 
and  our  captured  submarine. 

"I  bid  half  a  million  for  the  lot,  which  is  probably 
about  half  of  what  it  cost  to  build  them ;  and  there  was 
a  Frenchman  and  an  Englishman  bidding  against  me. 
They  each  had  me  topped,  and  the  vessels  were  knocked 
down  to  the  Frenchman;  but  when  he  found  I  was  a 
competitor — that  I  was  Monsieur  le  Capitaine  Ricks — 
that's  what  they  called  me,  Matt — in  command  of 
the  party  that  captured  a  German  submarine,  intact 
and  without  the  loss  of  a  single  man  on  either  side — say, 
Matt,  the  stuff  was  all  off! 

"He  and  the  Englishman  went  into  a  conference; 
and  the  result  was,  the  Frenchman  ran  out  on  his  bid 
and  forfeited  his  ten-per-cent  certified  check.  That 
left  the  Englishman  the  next  highest  bidder;  and  he 
ran  out  on  his  bid  and  left  the  ships  to  me !  Then  the 
Englishman  shook  hands  with  me  and  the  Frenchman 
kissed  me.  I  thought  the  least  I  could  do  was  to  make 
good  to  them  on  the  earnest  money  they  had  forfeited, 
and  they  accepted  it.  Then  the  President  of  France 
heard  about  it  and  came  down  to  Brest  to  see  me; 
and  he  kissed  me,  too,  and  gave  me  the  Officers'  Cross 
of  the  Legion  of  Honor.  I  didn't  tell  him  I  was  just  a 
private  in  the  ranks.  Oh,  no!  Nothing  doing.  I 
was  introduced  as  Monsieur  le  Capitaine  Ricks — and 
that  settled  it.  I  was  an  officer,  for  all  my  courtesy 
title ;  and  I  took  the  Cross,  because  I  was  prouder  than 
Punch  to  have  it. 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  405 

"Then  the  Chamber  of  Deputies  met  and  voted  the 
Frenchman  and  the  Englishman  back  their  forfeited 
earnest  money ;  and  they  gave  me  back  my  checks,  and 
I  wrote  new  ones  for  the  same  amount  and  split  the 
swag  fifty-fifty  between  the  two  nations  for  the  care 
of  their  wounded.  Then  I  gave  a  dinner  aboard  the 
submarine,  and  President  Poincare  was  present.  I 
presented  the  submarine,  with  the  compliments  of  the 
Blue  Star  Navigation  Company,  to  the  Republic  of 
France,  and  the  President  accepted,  all  hands  went 
out  on  deck  and  we  cracked  a  bottle  of  champagne 
over  that  submersible's  bows  and  rechristened  her." 

"What  name?"  Matt  and  Skinner  chorused. 

"The  Shamrock — out  of  compliment  to  Mike  and 
Terence." 

"Fine!"  Matt  cried.     "Then  what?" 

"Nothing,  Matt.  Our  business  was  finished  and  I 
was  anxious  to  get  back  on  the  job;  so  we  engaged 
skippers  and  crews  to  bring  our  four  freighters  to  New 
York,  and  came  home. 

"Better  step  lively,  boy,  and  dig  up  some  business  for 
them !  Mike  will  give  you  the  data  on  their  tonnage." 

Matt  drew  Mike  Murphy  aside. 

"Tell  me,  Mike,"  he  whispered,  "did  the  old  man 
get  soused  at  that  dinner  aboard  the  Shamrock?" 

"Look  here,  Matt,"  Murphy  answered;  "what  Mon 
sieur  le  Capitaine  Ricks  does  outside  of  office  hours  is 
none  of  my  business — or  yours,  either.  And  if  you 
don't  like  that  answer  help  yourself  to  a  new  port 
captain.  I'm  not  telling  everything  I  know,  Matt." 


CHAPTER  LVI 

the  morning  of  April  3,  1917,  Cappy  Ricks 
came  down  to  his  office,  spread  a  newspaper  on  his 
desk  and  carefully  cut  from  it  the  war  address  of 
President  Wilson  to  Congress,  made  the  night  before. 
This  clipping  the  old  gentleman  folded  carefully;  he 
placed  it  in  an  envelope,  sealed  it  and  wrote  across  the 
face  of  the  envelope:  "Property  of  Alden  Matthew 
Peasley."  Then  he  summoned  Mr.  Skinner,  president 
of  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Company. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  began,  "have  you  read 
the  President's  Message  to  Congress  ?" 

"I  have,"  replied  Skinner. 

"I  guess  that  President  of  ours  isn't  some  tabasco, 
eh?  By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet,  he's  just  natur 
ally  read  Bill  Hohenzollern  out  of  the  party.  Bully 
for  Woodrow!" 

Mr.  Skinner's  calm  cold  features  refused  to  thaw, 
however,  under  the  heat  of  his  employer's  enthusiasm, 
seeing  which  Cappy  slid  out  to  the  edge  of  his  chair 
and  gazed  contemplatively  at  Skinner  over  the  rims  of 
his  spectacles.  "Hum-m-m !"  he  said.  The  very  tempo 
of  that  throat-clearing  should  have  warned  Mr.  Skinner 
that  he  was  treading  on  thin  ice,  but  with  his  usual  com 
placence  he  ignored  the  storm  signal,  for  his  mind  was 
upon  private,  not  public  affairs. 

"I'm  offered  the  old  barkentine  C.  D.  Bryant  for  a 
cargo  of  redwood  to  Sydney,"  he  began.  "The  freight 

406 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  407 

rate  is  two  hundred  and  twenty  shillings  per  thousand 
I  feet,  but  the  Bryant  is  so  old  and  rotten  I  can't  get 
[any  insurance  on  the  cargo  if  I  ship  by  her.  Fm  just 
wondering  if " 

"Harumph-h-h !     Ahem-m-m !" 

" it's  worth  while  taking  a  chance  to  move  that 

'  foreign  order.'* 

"Skinner !"  Gappy  almost  shouted. 

Mr.  Skinner  looked  at  him,  startled. 

"How  can  you  think  and  talk  of  old  barkentines  and 
non-insurable  foreign  cargoes  at  this  crisis  in  our 
country's  history?"  the  autocrat  of  the  numerous  Ricks 
corporations  shrilled  furiously.  "Dad  burn  your 
picture,  Skinner,  are  you  human?  Don't  you  ever  get 
a  thrill  from  reading  a  document  like  this?" — and  he 
tapped  the  envelope  containing  the  press  clipping. 
"What  kind  of  juice  runs  in  your  arteries,  anyhow? 
Red  blood  or  buttermilk?  Is  your  soul  so  dog-goned 
dead,  crushed  under  the  weight  of  dollars,  that  you 
have  failed  to  realize  this  document  is  destined  to  go 
down  in  history  side  by  side  with  Lincoln's  Gettysburg 
speech?  I'll  bet  you  don't  know  the  Gettysburg  speech. 
Bet  you  never  heard  of  it !" 

"Oh,  nonsense,  Mr.  Ricks,"  Skinner  retorted  suavely. 
"Pray  do  not  excite  yourself.  Suppose  war  does  im 
pend?  Is  that  any  reason  why  I  should  neglect  busi 
ness?" 

"Of  course  it  is,  you  gibbering  jackdaw!  I  feel 
like  setting  fire  to  the  building,  just  to  celebrate.  Can't 
you  step  into  my  office  on  a  day  like  this  and  discuss 
the  country  and  her  affairs  for  five  minutes,  just  to 
prove  you're  an  American  citizen?  Can't  you  rejoice 
with  me  over  these  lofty,  noble  sentiments " 


408  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Words,  words,  empty  words,"  warned  Mr.  Skinner, 
always  a  reactionary  Republican. 

"Skinner,"  said  Gappy  with  deadly  calm,  "one  more 
disloyal  peep  out  of  you  and  I  shall  have  no  alternative 
save  to  request  your  resignation.  I  think  you're  a 
pacifist  at  heart,  anyhow!" 

"Huh,"  snorted  Skinner.  "You've  changed  your 
tune,  haven't  you?  Who  trotted  up  and  down  Cali 
fornia  Street  last  fall,  soliciting  campaign  contribu 
tions  for  the  Republican  nominee  from  the  lumber  and 
shipping  interests?  Wasn't  it  Alden  P.  Ricks?  Who 
thought  the  country  was  going  to  wrack  and  ruin " 

"That  was  last  fall,"  Cappy  interrupted  shrilly. 
"We  live  and  learn — that  is,  some  of  us  do,"  he  added 
significantly.  "Never  mind  about  my  politics  last 
fall;  just  remember  I  haven't  any  this  spring.  I'm  an 
American  citizen,  and  by  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet, 
some  German  or  Germans  will  find  it  out  before  I'm 
gathered  to  the  bosom  of  Abraham.  I  have  a  right 
to  disapprove  of  my  President  if  I  feel  like  it,  but  I'll  be 
shot  if  I'll  let  anybody  else  pick  on  him."  And  Cappy 
shook  his  head  emphatically  several  times  like  a 
squinch-owl. 

"Oh,  I'm  for  him,  now  that  we're  committed  to  this 
war,"  Skinner  declared  in  an  effort  to  soothe  the  old 
man. 

"Sure!  We're  locking  the  stable  door  after  the 
horse  has  been  stolen.  If  we'd  been  for  him  when  the 
Luditania  was  sunk  instead  of  being  divided  in  our 
opinions  and  swayed  in  our  judgment  by  a  lot  of 
hysterical  pacifists  and  German  propagandists  we'd 
have  been  into  the  war  long  ago  and  saved  millions  of 
human  lives ;  we'd  have  had  the  war  won."  He  sighed. 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  409 

"What  a  prime  lot  of  jackasses  we  Americans  are!" 
he  continued.  "We  talk  of  liberty  and  demand  license; 
we  prate  of  democracy  and  we're  a  nation  of  snobs !" 

"You  wanted  to  see  me  about  something,"  Skinner 
reminded  him. 

"Ah,  yes ;  I  was  forgetting.  This  envelope,  Skinner, 
contains  the  President's  address.  Take  it  and  put  it  in 
the  vault,  and  when  my  grandson  is  twelve  years  old 
give  that  press  clipping  to  his  mother  and  tell  her  I 
said  she  was  to  read  it  to  the  boy  and  make  him  learn  it 
by  heart.  I  won't  be  on  hand  to  do  the  Americanizing 
of  that  youngster  myself,  and  most  likely  Matt  Peasley 
will  be  too  busy  to  think  much  about  it,  so  I'm  taking 
no  chances.  You  rile  me  to  beat  the  band  sometimes, 
Skinner,  but  I'll  say  this  much  in  your  favor:  I  have 
never  known  you  to  forget  anything." 

"Thank  you,  sir." 

Mr.  Skinner  took  the  envelope  and  departed,  and 
Cappy  rang  for  a  stenographer. 

"Take  a  telegram,  fast  day  message,"  he  barked: 
"*His  Excellency,  The  President,  White  House, 
Washington,  D.  C.  Dear  Mister  President:  I  did 
not  vote  for  you  last  fall,  but  your  address  of  last  night 
makes  me  ashamed  that  I  did  not.  I  am  controlling 
owner  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company,  operat 
ing  a  fleet  of  fifty  vessels  of  various  kinds,  twelve  of 
which  are  foreign-going  steam  freighters.  Am  also 
controlling  owner  of  the  Ricks  Lumber  &  Logging  Com 
pany,  cutting  a  million  feet  of  lumber  daily.  Every 
thing  I  control,  every  dollar  I  possess,  is  at  the  service 
of  my  country.  God  bless  you,  sir !  Alden  P.  Ricks.' 

"That  sounds  sloppy,  but  it's  the  way  I  feel,"  Cappy 
declared.  "When  a  man  has  a  big  heart-breaking  job 


410 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


to  do  and  a  lot  of  Philistines  are  knocking  him,  may! 
it  helps  him  to  retain  his  faith  in  humankind  to  hai 
some  fellow  grow  sincerely  sloppy  and  slip  a  telegraphi< 
cheer  in  with  the  hoots.     Besides,  if  I  didn't  let  oi 
steam  today  I'd  swell  up  and  bust  myself  all  over 
office " 

The    door    opened    and   Mr.    Terence   P.    Reardoi 
port  engineer  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Company 
entered.     Mr.  Reardon's  right  eye  was  in  deep  moi 
ing  and  at  no  very  remote  period  something — presi 
ably  a  fist — had  shifted  his  nose  slightly  to  starboard: 
indeed,  even  as  he  entered  Cappy's  office  a  globule  oi 
the  rich  red  Reardon  blood  trembled  in  each  of  tl 
port   engineer's   nostrils.     His   knuckles  were   slightly 
skinned  and  the  light  of  battle  blazed  in  his  black  eyes. 

"Terence,  my  dear,  dear  fellow,"  murmured  the  hoi 
rifled  Cappy,  "you  look  as  if  you  had  been  fed  in! 
a  concrete  mixer.  Have  you  been  fighting?" 

"Well,  sor,"  Mr.  Reardon  replied  in  his  deep  Kei 
brogue,  "ye  might  call  it  that  for  lack  of  somethin'  mor< 
expressive.     I've  just  fired  the  chief  engineer  o'  tl 
Titticum." 

"Mr.  Denicke?     Why,  Terry,  he's  a  first-rate  ei 
gineer.     I'm  amazed.     He  was  with  us  ten  years  befoi 
you  entered  the  employ — worked  up  from  oiler ;  in  fad 
I  must  have  an  explanation  of  your  action  in  this  case, 
Terence." 

"He  called  the  President  a  nut.    I  fired  him  for  that. 
Then  he  said  the  Kaiser  was  the  greatest  single  foi 
for  civilization  that  ever  was,  an'  wit'  that  I  gave  him 
lift  under  the  lug  an'  we  wint  at  it.    He's  in  the  Harboi 
Receivin'  Hospital  this  minute,  an'  I'm  here  to  tell  ye 
sor,  wit'  all  respect,  that  if  ye  don't  like  the  way  Fve 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  411 

threated  that  Dutchman  ye  can  get  yerself  a  new  port 
ingineer,  for  I'll  quit,  an'  that's  somethin'  I'm  not  wish 
ful  to  do." 

Quite  calmly  Cappy  Ricks  pressed  the  buzzer  on  his 
desk.  The  cashier  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation  Com 
pany  entered.  "Son,"  said  Cappy,  "hereafter,  when 
making  out  Mr.  Reardon's  pay  check,  tack  onto  it 
twenty-five  dollars  extra  each  month.  That  is  all." 

"Thank  you,  sor,"  murmured  Mr.  Reardon,  quite 
overcome. 

"Get  out !"  cried  Cappy.  "You're  a  vision  of  sudden 
death.  Go  wash  yourself." 

As  Mr.  Reardon  took  his  departure  Cappy  sighed. 
"If  Skinner  only  had  a  set  of  works  like  that  port 
engineer!"  he  murmured.  "If  he  only  had!" 


CHAPTER  LVII 

It  will  be  recalled  that  war  with  Germany  was  de 
clared  on  Good  Friday.  Bright  and  early  on  Saturday 
morning  Cappy  Ricks  arrived  at  his  office  and  imme 
diately  summoned  Mr.  Skinner. 

"Skinner,  my  dear  boy,"  he  chirped,  "  'the  tumult 
and  the  shouting  dies/  We're  down  to  brass  tacks — 
at  last ;  and  now  is  time  for  all  good  men  and  true  to 
come  to  the  aid  of  the  party.  I'm  too  old  to  bear 
arms,  and  when  I  was  young  enough  bantam  battalions 
weren't  fashionable ;  nevertheless,  I  am  enlisting  for  the 
war,  and  I  start  in  this  morning  to  do  my  part.  I 
won't  wear  any  uniform,  but  believe  me,  Skinner,  I'm 
the  little  corporal  who's  going  to  mobilize  the  Blue 
Star  Navigation  Company  and  the  Ricks  Lumber  & 
Logging  Company,  together  with  all  and  sundry  of 
their  subsidiary  corporations.  I'm  starting  with  you, 
Skinner.  Are  you  figuring  on  enlisting?" 

"Certainly  not,  sir.  I'm  forty-three  years  old,  mar 
ried " 

"No  excuses  necessary,  Skinner.  Even  if  you  had 
planned  to  enlist  I  would  have  forbidden  the  banns. 
You'd  make  a  bird  of  a  paymaster  or  quartermaster, 
but  as  an  enlisted  man — well,  the  other  bad  soldier  boys 
would  toss  you  in  a  blanket.  So  I'll  assign  you  to 
a  job  in  civil  life.  Skinner,  what  do  you  know  about 
aeroplanes  ?" 

"Absolutely  nothing,  except  that  they  fly." 
412 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  413 

"Then  learn  something !  Skinner,  the  ideal  wood  for 
aeroplane  construction  is  clear  Pacific  Coast  spruce. 
I've  been  reading  up  on  the  subject.  Inasmuch  as 
this  war  must  be  won  in  the  air,  you  can  imagine  the 
number  of  aeroplanes  the  country  must  turn  out  in  the 
next  eighteen  months.  Stu-pen-dous,  Skinner,  simply 
stu-pen-dous !  Try  to  visualize  the  wastage  alone  in 
the  aeroplanes  on  the  battle  fronts ;  consider  the  thou 
sands  of  seaplanes  that  will  scour  the  Atlantic  on  the 
lookout  for  submarines,  and  then  ask  yourself,  Skin 
ner,  what  the  devil  those  overworked  army  and  navy 
officers  in  Washington  are  going  to  do  about  laying 
in  a  supply  of  clear  Pacific  Coast  spruce  before  these 
pirates  of  lumbermen  get  next  and  boost  the  price 
clear  out  of  sight.  Skinner,  what  is  clear  spruce  worth 
at  the  Northern  mills  today?" 

"About  fifty-five  dollars  per  thousand,  sir.  For 
years  clear  spruce  never  rose  in  price  beyond  thirty- 
five  dollars,  but  purchases  by  the  British  Government 
have  shot  the  price  up  during  the  past  year." 

"Exactly!  And  purchases  by  the  United  States 
Government  will  shoot  the  price  up  to  a  hundred  and 
fifty  dollars  a  thousand  if  you  and  I  don't  get  busy. 
Now  then,  Skinner,  listen  to  me !  We  have  a  couple  of 
thousand  acres  of  wonderful  spruce  timber  adjacent 
to  our  fir  holdings  at  Port  Hadlock,  Washington. 
Wire  the  mill  manager  to  swamp  in  a  logging  railroad 
to  that  spruce  timber,  put  in  logging  camps  and  con 
centrate  on  spruce.  The  clear  stock  we'll  sell  to  the 
Government,  and  the  lower  grades  will  be  snapped  up 
by  the  box  factories." 

Mr.  Skinner  nodded  his  comprehension  of  the  order 
and  Cappy  continued:  "Wire  our  mill  managers  at 


414  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Astoria,  Oregon  and  Eureka,  California,  to  log  out 
all  the  spruce  they  come  across  among  the  fir.  As  for 
you,  Skinner,  accept  no  more  orders  for  clear  spruce 
from  our  regular  customers,  and  go  easy  on  accepting 
orders  for  any  kind  of  lumber  from  our  Eastern  cus 
tomers.  All  those  car  shipments  must  be  made  up  of 
kiln-dried  stock,  and  we'll  want  most  of  the  space  in  our 
dry  kilns  to  cook  this  clear  green  spruce  for  Uncle 
Sam,  because  he's  going  to  want  it  in  a  hurry,  and  if 
he  can't  get  it  when  he  wants  it — why,  chaos  has  come 
again  and  all  hell's  let  loose!" 

"What  price  do  you  propose  charging  the  Govern 
ment  for  this  clear  spruce?"  the  cautious  Skinner 
queried.  He  owned  a  little  stock  in  the  Ricks  Lumber 
&  Logging  Company  and  already  he  had  a  vision  of  an 
extra  dividend. 

"Absolute  cost  plus  ten  per  cent,"  replied  Gappy 
promptly.  "No  excess  profits  at  the  expense  of  the 
country  at  war,  Skinner." 

He  gazed  upon  Skinner  contemplatively  for  several 
seconds.  "And  mind  you  don't  figure  the  cost  too 
liberally,"  he  warned  him. 

"Very  well,  sir.    Is  that  all?" 

"Not  by  a  jugful!  You  scatter  round  the  market 
and  buy  up  every  stick  of  clear  two-inch  spruce  sawed 
and  on  hand  at  the  Northern  mills.  Buy  at  the  market, 
but  do  not  hesitate  to  go  five  dollars  over  the  market  if 
necessary  to  get  the  stock.  Then  place  orders  for  all 
the  clear  spruce  the  mills  can  cut  and  deliver  within 
the  next  six  months,  and  we'll  have  the  market  hog 
tied. 

"Got  to  do  it,  Skinner.  I  tell  you  there  isn't  a  whole 
lot  of  difference  between  a  lumberman  and  a  manufac- 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  415 

turer  or  a  food  speculator.  When  he  gets  the  public 
foul,  doesn't  the  public  pay  through  the  nose?  Haven't 
we  been  doing  it  ourselves  in  the  matter  of  ship  freights  ? 
But  we  must  reform,  Skinner,  we  must  reform  and  get 
down  to  a  cooperative  basis,  no  matter  how  great  the 
agony.  On  this  spruce  deal  alone,  for  instance,  we'll 
save  the  Government  a  couple  of  million  dollars.  See  if 
we  don't." 

"We're  entitled  to  a  liberal  profit,"  Mr.  Skinner  pro 
tested.  "If " 

"No  if s,  buts  or  ands !  Obey  orders !  About  the 
time  we  have  the  market  on  clear  spruce  well  cornered 
the  lumbermen's  boys  will  be  in  the  army  and  the  lum 
bermen  themselves  will  have  begun  to  realize  that  they 
must  sacrifice  something  for  their  country.  And  once 
we're  sane  we'll  be  able  to  work  hand  in  glove  with  the 
Government.  The  United  States  of  America  has  been 
money-mad  for  a  long  time,  Skinner,  but  this  war  is 
going  to  spiritualize  us  and  show  us  that  there's  a  lot 
more  in  life  than  dollar-chasing.  Hop  to  your  job, 
P.  D.  Q.,  Skinner,  my  boy ;  and  as  you  pass  out  send 
Captain  Matt  Peasley  in  to  me." 

Matt  Peasley  came  smilingly  into  his  father-in-law's 
office.  "Well,  Cappy,"  he  hailed  the  old  gentleman,  "I 
understand  you've  come  out  of  your  retirement." 

"You're  damned  whistling,  I  have!"  Cappy  rejoined. 
"Something  doing,  boy,  something  for  everybody! 
Have  they  told  you  about  it  in  the  general  office?" 

"Told  me  about  what?" 

"About  the  President  asking  me  if  I  would  cooperate 
with  him  to  the  extent  of  serving  as  the  Pacific  Coast 
member  of  the  Shipping  Board?  I  guess  that  isn't 
some  honor,  eh?  How  the  devil  he  ever  dug  up  an  old 


416  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

fossil  like  me  is  a  mystery.  I  wired  him,  advising  that 
he  appoint  a  younger  man,  but  he  replied  that  he 
knew  I  was  the  livest  shipping  man  in  the  country  and 
an  American  through  and  through.  So,  of  course, 
Matt,  I  have  accepted.'* 

"Your  forty  odd  years'  experience  will  be  of  inestim 
able  value  to  the  country  in  this  emergency,"  Matt  de 
clared  heartily.  "I'm  proud  of  you." 

"Thank  you,  son.  Now  then,  Matt,  to  business ! 
The  Government's  going  to  need  every  one  of  our  ships 
that  can  run  foreign."  Matt  nodded.  "Very  well, 
then,"  Gappy  continued ;  "as  fast  as  their  present  char 
ters  lapse,  decline  to  recharter  except  for  single  trips. 
We  must  go  on  a  war  basis  and  be  prepared  to  turn 
our  ships  over  to  the  Government  on  short  notice. 
I'll  be  too  busy  to  keep  my  eye  on  the  details  of  the 
Blue  Star's  transactions  with  the  Government,  so  I'll 
give  you  a  straight  tip  now — I  want  no  gouging. 
Remember  that,  Matthew,  my  son." 


CHAPTER  LVIII 

The  following  day  Gappy  had  a  call  from  Sam 
Daniels. 

"Hello,  Sam,"  Gappy  greeted  his  lanky  ranch  man 
ager.  "What  brings  you  up  to  town?  Not  that  I'm 
not  glad  to  see  you,  for  I  was  on  the  point  of  writing 
you  on  some  matters  that  had  occurred  to  me." 

"I've  come  up  to  resign  my  job,"  Daniels  declared 
humbly. 

"Resign  the  best  job  you've  ever  had,  Sam!"  Gappy 
was  amazed. 

"To  resign  the  best  job  I  ever  will  have,  Mr.  Ricks." 

Mr.  Daniels  hitched  his  chair  close  to  his  employer's 
desk.  "Boss,"  he  said,  "I'm  awful  sorry,  but  I'm 
goin'  soldiering." 

Gappy  Ricks  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an  oath.  "You're 
not!"  he  shouted.  "I  won't  hear  of  it.  You're  too 
valuable  a  man  to  go  into  the  army  and  get  yourself 
killed — particularly  since  you  can  do  your  share  at 
home.  Why,  I  was  just  going  to  write  you  and  give 
you  your  orders  for  patriotic  duty.  You  go  back 
to  the  ranch,  Sam,  and  get  busy.  Plant  spuds,  wheat, 
oats,  barley,  corn — plant  all  you  can  of  it.  Raise  hei 
fers,  sheep,  hogs,  cows,  bulls,  calves,  turkeys — every 
thing  that  can  be  eaten.  Raise  horses — and  in  parti 
cular,  raise  mules." 

"I'd  rather  raise  hell  with  a  bunch  of  Germans,"  Sam 
Daniels  declared  feelingly. 

417 


418  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Your  job  is  to  help  produce  cereals  and  cannec 
beef  for  the  hell-raisers,"  Gappy  declared.  "The  army 
will  want  horses  for  the  artillery  and  mules  for  the 
transport.  Why,  this  war  may  last  for  years.  Sam 
you  infernal  scoundrel,  you  get  back  on  the  farm 
You're  forty-five  years  old  and  you've  been  shot  anc 
whittled  enough  in  your  day  to  last  you  the  remainder 
of  your  natural  life.  Let  the  young  fellows  do  the  fight 
ing  abroad,  while  you  and  I  and  the  other  hasbeens 
do  it  at  home." 

"I'd  a  heap  rather  lay  off  in  the  brush  somewheres  an 
snipe  Germans,"  Mr.  Daniels  pleaded.  "On  the  level 
boss,  if  they'll  give  me  a  Springfield  rifle  with  telescopi( 
sights  I'll  guarantee  to  sicken  anythin'  I  get  a  fair  sigh 
on  at  a  thousand  yards." 

"In-fer-nal  scoundrel!  How  dare  you  argue  with 
me !  You  get  back  on  your  job !" 

"Boss,  I'm  going  into  the  army,"  Daniels  announcec 
sadly,  but  nevertheless  firmly.  "I'm  givin'  you  a 
month's  notice  so  you  can  get  a  man  to  take  my  place.' 

Gappy  surrendered.  "All  right,  Sam.  If  you  sur 
vive,  your  job  will  be  waiting  for  you  when  you  get 
back.  However,  you  needn't  give  me  any  notice.  I'l 
have  another  man  in  charge  of  the  ranch  to-morrow, 
and  you  can  enlist  today." 

"And  you're  not  sore  at  me,  Mr.  Ricks?" 

"Sam,  I'm  proud  of  you.  Wish  I  were  young  enough 
to  go  it  with  you.  Are  you  in  a  hurry  to  get  to 
France?" 

"Certainly  am." 

"Then  join  the  marines.  They  always  go  first. 
Good-bye,  Sam.  Good  luck  to  you  and  God  bless  you 
Draw  your  wages  as  you  go  out  and  tell  the  cashier 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  419 

I  said  to  give  you  an  extra  month's  wages  for  tobacco 
money. " 

Mr.  Daniels  withdrew,  visibly  filled  with  emotion. 
Ten  minutes  later  Cappy  Ricks,  watching  at  his  office 
window,  saw  Mr.  Daniels  cross  the  street  and  enter  the 
marines'  recruiting  office.  Immediately  Cappy  called 
that  recruiting  office  on  the  telephone  and  asked  for 
the  doctor. 

"Look  here,  doctor!"  he  said.  "In  a  few  minutes  a 
lanky,  battle  scarred  rancher  is  coming  in  to  be  ex 
amined.  I  don't  want  him  to  enlist.  He's  my  ranch 
manager  and  worth  more  to  the  country  in  his  job 
than  at  the  Front.  You  turn  him  down  physically,  doc 
tor,  and  I'll  guarantee  to  send  you  five  fine  recruits 
instead  of  that  old  fossil.  His  name  is  Sam  Daniels, 
and  I'm  Alden  P.  Ricks,  of  the  Blue  Star  Navigation 
Company,  across  the  street." 

"We  need  an  automobile  to  send  our  recruiting  ser 
geant  out  through  the  state,"  the  wary  medico  replied. 
"Now,  if  you  could  loan  us  one " 

"I'll  have  my  own  car  and  chauffeur  over  in  half  an 
hour,  and  you  keep  him  as  long  as  you  need  him," 
Cappy  piped.  "Only  tell  Sam  Daniels  he's  faltering  on 
the  brink  of  the  grave  and  send  him  back  to  me." 

An  hour  later  Mr.  Daniels  slouched  into  Cappy 
Ricks'  office.  "Well,  Private  Daniels,"  the  old  man 
saluted  him,  "you  look  downcast.  Has  something 
slipped?" 

"I  should  say  it  has.  The  doc  over  to  the  recruitm* 
office  says  I  got  a  heart  murmur  from  smoking  cigar 
ettes,  which  it's  a  cinch  the  excitement  o'  battle  brings 
on  death  from  heart  failure,  an'  then  folks  would  say  I 
died  o'  fright." 


420  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 


"He's  crazy  Sam !    Tell  him  to  go  chase  himself." 

"I  guess  he's  right,  Mr.  Ricks.  He  'most  cried  to  let 
me  go,  an'  was  for  waivin'  the  heart  murmur,  but  it 
seems  I  got  a  floatin'  kidney,  an'  flat  feet.  Gosh,  I 
never  knew  I  had  flat  feet,  but  then  I've  rid  horses  all 
my  life  an'  ain't  never  hiked  none  to  speak  of." 

He  was  silent  several  minutes,  studying  the  pattern 
of  the  office  carpet.  Presently  he  looked  up.  "Is  my 
successor  at  the  ranch  already  appointed?"  he  queried. 

"Go  back  to  the  fields  and  the  kind-faced  cows, 
Samuel,"  quoth  Cappy  gently.  "Hurry,  or  you'll  miss 
the  train." 

Sam  Daniels  fled,  and  hard  on  his  heels  came  Mrs. 
Michael  J.  Murphy,  nee  Miss  Keenan.  It  will  be  re 
called  that  prior  to  her  happy  alliance  with  Michael 
J.  Murphy,  Mrs.  Murphy  had  been  Cappy  Ricks'  fav 
orite  stenographer.  He  received  her  cordially. 

"Now  then,  what's  gone  wrong,  my  dear?"  he  de 
manded.  "Have  you  and  Mike  been  making  a  hash 
of  your  married  life  that  you  should  come  in  here  on 
the  verge  of  tears?" 

Mrs.  Murphy  blinked  away  a  tear  or  two  and  sat 
down.  "Some  of  the  boys  in  the  office  will  be  enlisting, 
Mr.  Ricks,"  she  faltered.  "I  wonder  if  there  might 
be  a  vacancy  for  me — if  I  might  not  have  my  old  po 
sition  back?" 

Cappy  Ricks  was  genuinely  concerned.  "Why,  Mike 
won't  let  you  earn  your  living,"  he  declared.  "Why 
do  you  make  such  an  extraordinary  request?" 

"For  Mike's  sake,  Mr.  Ricks.  Of  late  he  has  been 
very  nervous  and  distrait;  scarcely  touches  his  meals, 
and  thinks,  talks  and  dreams  of  war.  Last  night  he 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  421 

dreamed  he  was  back  in  the  navy  and  shouted  out  an 
order  that  woke  him  up." 

"Come  to  think  of  it,  I  believe  Mike  did  spend  several 
years  in  the  navy  prior  to  going  into  mercantile 
marine,"  Cappy  observed.  "So  he  has  the  war  fever 
again,  eh?  Wants  to  go  back?" 

"Ever  since  he  received  a  letter  from  the  Navy 
League.  They're  searching  out  all  the  old  navy  men — 
gun  pointers  particularly — and  asking  them  to  come 
back  to  help  train  the  young  fellows  just  coming  into 
the  service.  Mike  was  a  gun  pointer " 

"Well,  what  in  thunder  is  he  hesitating  for?"  Cappy 
piped  wrathfully. 

"About  me.  Mike's  married  to  me,  you  know,  and 
he  worries  about  what  will  happen  to  me  if  he  should  be 
killed.  He  knows  I'll  be  broken-hearted  if  he  enlists — 
he's  afraid  I'll  not  let  him  go.  But  if  I  got  my  job 
back  and  was  self-supporting,  Mike's  conscience  would 
be- " 

"Do  you  want  him  to  go?" 

"No,  Mr.  Ricks,  but  he  must  go.  I  do  not  want  to 
make  a  coward  or  a  slacker  out  of  Mike.  I've  got  to 
do  my  part,  you  know." 

"My  dear,"  said  Cappy  feelingly,  "you're  a  noble 
woman.  Go  back  and  attend  to  your  little  home; 
Mike  may  go  whenever  he's  ready  and  his  salary  with 
the  Blue  Star  will  go  on  while  he  is  in  the  navy;  his 
job  will  be  waiting  for  him  when  he  comes  back.  Good 
old  Mike!  How  dreadful  a  crime  to  hobble  that  Irish 
man  with  a  first-class  fight  in  sight." 

When  Mrs.  Mike  had  left  the  office  Cappy  stiffened 
out  suddenly  in  his  chair,  clenched  his  fists  and  closed 
his  eyes,  as  if  in  pain.  And  presently  between  the 


422  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

wrinkled  old  lids  two  tears  crept  forth.  Poor  Cappy ! 
He  was  finding  it  very,  very  hard  to  be  old  and  little 
and  out  of  the  fight,  for  in  every  war  in  which  the 
United  States  had  engaged  representatives  of  the  tribe 
of  .Ricks  had  gladly  offered  their  bodies  for  the  su 
preme  sacrifice,  and  as  Cappy's  active  mind  ran  down 
the  long  and  bloody  list  his  heart  swelled  with  anguish 
in  the  knowledge  that  he  was  doomed  to  play  an  in 
glorious  part  in  the  war  with  Germany.  Mr.  Skinner 
coming  in  with  a  letter  to  Cappy,  observed  the  old  man's 
emotion  and  asked  him  if  he  was  ill. 

"Yes,  Skinner,  I  am,"  he  replied.  "I'm  sick  at  heart. 
God  has  given  me  everything  I  ever  wanted  except  six 
big  strapping  sons.  Just  think,  Skinner,  what  a 
glorious  honor  would  be  mine  if  I  had  six  fine  boys  to 
give  to  my  country."  His  old  lips  trembled.  "And  you 
could  bank  on  the  Ricks  boys,"  he  added.  "My  boys 
would  never  wait  to  be  drafted.  No,  sir-ree!  When 
they  heard  the  call  they'd  answer,  like  their  ancestors. 

"Skinner,  what  has  come  over  our  boys  of  this  gener 
ation?  Why  don't  they  volunteer?  Why  does  the 
President  have  to  beg  for  men?  Has  the  soul  of  the 
idealist  been  corroded  by  a  life  of  ease?  Did  the 
spirit  of  adventure  die  with  our  forefathers  ?  Is  it  any 
harder  to  die  just  because  war  has  become  more  terrible 
— more  deadly?  Oh,  Skinner,  Skinner!  To  be  young 
and  tall  and  strong  and  whirled  in  the  cycle  of  vast 
events — to  play  a  man's  part  in  a  glorious  undertaking 
— to  feel  that  I  have  enriched  the  world  with  my  efforts, 
however  humble,  or  with  my  body  revitalized  the  soil 
made  fallow  by  a  ravishing  monster.  I  feel,  Skinner — 
I  feel  so  much  and  can  do  so  little." 

Nevertheless,  he  did  do  something  that  very  after- 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  423 

noon.  One  after  the  other  he  examined  all  the  young 
men  in  his  employ,  discovered  which  of  them  could  afford 
the  luxury  of  enlisting  and  then  asked  them  bluntly 
whether  they  were  going  to  enlist.  Three  of  them  said 
they  were,  and  Gappy  promised  each  of  them  a  month's 
salary  the  day  he  should  report  to  him  in  uniform. 
Nine  others  appeared  to  be  uncertain  of  their  duty,  so 
Cappy  fired  them  all,  to  the  great  distress  of  Mr. 
Skinner  and  Matt  Peasley.  Cappy,  however,  turned  a 
deaf  ear  to  their  remonstrances. 

"A  man  who  won't  fight  for  his  country  is  no  good," 
he  declared;  "and  I  won't  keep  a  no-good  son  of  a 
slacker  on  my  pay  roll.  Get  married  men  or  men  who 
have  been  rejected  for  military  service  to  take  the  places 
of  these  bums  who  haven't  courage  enough  even  to 
try  to  enlist." 


CHAPTER  LIX 

The  campaign  for  the  Liberty  bonds  brought  Cappy 
an  appointment  from  the  mayor  as  captain  of  a  corps 
of  volunteer  bond  salesmen  to  work  the  wholesale  lumber 
and  shipping  trade,  and  for  three  weeks  the  old  gentle 
man  was  as  busy  as  the  proverbial  one-armed  paper 
hanger  with  the  itch.  He  was  obsessed  with  a  fear 
that  the  bond  issue  would  be  under-subscribed  by  about 
a  billion  and  a  half  and  result  in  the  United  States 
of  America  being  accorded  a  hearty  Teutonic  horse 
laugh.  Consequently  he  made  five  separate  subscrip 
tions  on  his  own  account,  and  just  before  the  lists 
closed  on  the  last  day  he  was  again  overcome  with  ap 
prehension  and  subscribed  for  an  additional  ten  thou 
sand  dollars'  worth  for  his  grandson!  When  the  re 
sult  of  the  Liberty-bond  campaign  was  made  known  he 
almost  wept  with  joy  and  gave  a  wonderful  dinner  to 
his  corps  of  salesmen,  after  which  he  went  down  to 
his  ranch  to  rest  for  a  week  and  see  what  Sam  Daniels 
was  up  to. 

The  morning  he  returned  to  town,  prepared  to  leap, 
heart  and  soul  into  the  hundred-million-dollar  Red 
Cross  drive,  he  had  a  visit  from  his  port  captain, 
Michael  J.  Murphy. 

"Well,  sir,"  Murphy  anounced,  "Fve  cleaned  up  alt 
the  little  details  in  my  department,  your  new  port 
captain  is  on  the  job,  and  I'm  about  to  go  over  to  the 
naval  training  station  on  Goat  Island  and  hold  up  my 

424 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  425 

hand  again.  But  before  I  go,  sir,  I  want  to  express  to 
you  something  of  what  I  feel  for  what  you've  done  for 
me  and  mine." 

"Tut,  tut.  Not  another  peep  out  of  you,  sir !"  Gap 
py  commanded.  To  be  thanked  for  anything  always 
made  him  feel  uncomfortable.  "What  branch  of  the 
service  do  you  hope  to  get  into,  Mike?" 

"I  want  to  get  aboard  a  destroyer,  sir,  though 
they're  the  divil  an'  all  to  live  aboard.  They  offer 
the  best  chance  for  action.  Patrolling  the  submarine 
zone,  you  know." 

"Gosh,"  Gappy  groaned;  "everybody's  got  the  sub 
marines  on  the  brain,  and  I'm  tagging  along  with  the 
rest.  Mike,  I  swear  I  can't  sleep  nights,  thinking  of 
this  war.  It  breaks  my  heart  to  realize  I'm  out  of  it. 
And  because  I'm  a  shipping  man,  naturally  my  fool 
brain  runs  to  submarines  and  how  to  control  them. 
Mike,  I  have  a  great  yearning  to  sink  a  submarine; 
the  screams  of  those  scoundrels  aboard  her  would  be 
music  to  my  ears." 

"It's  a  serious  problem,"  Murphy  declared  soberly; 
"but  I'm  hoping  our  Yankee  ingenuity  will  solve  it." 

"Well,  we  haven't  done  it  to  date,  and  in  the  mean 
time  all  the  nut  inventors  in  the  world  are  sending  their 
nut  ideas  in  to  the  National  Council  of  Defense.  Of 
course  I  have  a  bright  idea  too.  I'm  a  great  hand  at 
hatching  cute  schemes,  you  know.  However,  I  differ 
from  the  average  submarine  nut  in  this — that  I  want  to 
try  out  my  theory  in  practice  before  submitting  it  to 
an  expectant  world.  Still,  I'd  need  you  to  help  me; 
and  now  that  you're  going  into  the  navy  I  suppose 
I'll  have  to  forget  it." 

"I  seem  to  remember  a  scheme  of  yours  that  resulted 


426  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

in  the  capture  of  a  submarine  last  year,"  Murphy  re 
minded  the  old  man.  "That  was  a  bully  scheme,  and 
I'm  willing  to  wager  that  the  head  which  produced  it 
can  produce  another  just  as  good.  Tell  me  your  plan 
for  eliminating  submarines,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"My  scheme  doesn't  contemplate  a  continuous  per 
formance,"  Cappy  hastened  to  explain,  "but  it  might 
work  out  once  or  twice — and  in  this  great  international 
emergency  anything  is  worth  trying  once.  I  could 
demonstrate  my  theory  in  about  two  months — with 
your  help." 

"Then,"  declared  Michael  J.  Murphy,  "I'll  wait  until 
you  give  the  demonstration  before  enlisting  in  the 
navy." 

"Bully  for  you,  Mike!  I'll  declare  Terry  Reardon 
in  on  the  experiment  also,  for  the  reason  that  one  of 
the  ingredients  required  is  a  chief  engineer  with  courage 
to  spare.  Now  then,  for  my  scheme:  Do  you  know  the 
Costa  Rica?" 

"That  old  steamer  that  used  to  run  to  Panama  for 
the  Pacific  Mail?" 

"The  same." 

"What  about  her?" 

"She's  in  the  bone  yard — laid  up  for  keeps,  Mike. 
Her  plates  are  so  thin  and  soft  the  least  jar  would 
punch  a  hole  in  her;  she's  wrecked  and  strained  from 
fifty  years  of  service;  her  engines  are  worn  out,  her 
boilers  are  burned  out,  her  gear  is  antiquated,  and 
even  in  these  times  of  abnormal  freight  rates  she's  too 
far  gone  to  patch  up  and  keep  running.  They  kicked 
her  up  in  the  mud  of  Oakland  Inner  Harbor  yesterday, 
and  there  she'll  be  stripped  of  everything  of  value  and 
left  to  rot.  My  plan,  Mike,  is  to  buy  the  old  Costa 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  427 

Rica  for  a  couple  of  thousand  dollars,  turn  Terence 
Reardon  and  his  gang  loose  on  her  engines  and  boilers 
for  a  couple  of  weeks  and  take  the  old  coffin  out  for  one 
final  voyage.  She  can  make  eight  or  nine  knots  in 
good  weather,  and  if  she's  torpedoed  the  loss  will  be 
trifling.  Will  you  run  the  risk  and  take  her  out  for  me, 
Mike?" 

"Yes,  sir.     What  for?" 

"As  a  decoy." 

"I  don't  understand." 

"We'll  put  a  hand-picked  crew  aboard  her,  Mike; 
we'll  arm  her  fore  and  aft  with  six-inch  guns,  which 
we  can  readily  get  from  the  navy  now  that  it's  the 
fashion  to  arm  merchantmen;  and  then  go  cruising  in 
the  submarine  zone.  You  can  pick  up  a  few  old  navy 
men  for  a  gun  crew  and  train  some  of  the  Costa 
Rica's  crew,  can't  you?" 

"If  we  can  get  somebody  to  give  me  the  range  and 
manage  to  get  the  gun  loaded  somehow,  I'll  do  the  gun 
pointing;  with  half  a  chance  I'll  guarantee  results." 

"And  that  is  exactly  what  I  plan  to  give  you — half  a 
chance,"  Gappy  declared  enthusiastically.  "The 
Costa  Rica  isn't  worth  two  hoots  in  a  hollow,  but  she 
still  looks  enough  like  a  steamer  to  attract  submarines ; 
and  during  this  fine  summer  weather  we  can  chance  a 
final  voyage  with  the  old  wreck." 

"Where  do  you  get  this  'we'  stuff,  Mr.  Ricks?"  Mike 
Murphy  queried  bluntly.  "You're  not  figuring  on 
going  to  sea  in  that  coffin,  are  you?" 

"I  most  certainly  am  so  figuring.  I  take  my  fun 
where  I  find  it,  Mike,  and  if  I'm  to  plan  and  pay  for 
this  experiment — then,  by  gravy,  I'm  going  to  be  on 


428  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

deck  to  watch  it  work  out  if  it's  the  last  act  of  my 
sinful  career." 

"But  if  they  fire  on  us  you  may  be  killed." 

"We'll  be  firm'  back  at  'em,  won't  we?  And  if  Pm 
killed  in  action,  won't  that  be  a  fitting  finish  for  a 
Ricks?" 

"We  may  be  afloat  in  an  open  boat  for  a  week.  I 
don't  want  you  to  die  of  exposure,  sir." 

"Forget  it,  Mike !  I've  been  charged  off  to  profit  and 
loss  for  so  many  years  it  makes  me  ill  to  think  of  them. 
And  you  remember,  my  dear  Mike, 

"  'To  every  man  upon  this  earth 

Death  cometh  soon  or  late; 
And  how  can  man  die  better 

Than  facing  fearful  odds 
For  the  ashes  of  his  fathers 

And  the  temples  of  his  gods?' 

Don't  argue  with  me,  Mike.  My  mind  is  quite  made 
up.  I'm  going  into  action  in  this  war,  for,  as  I  said 
before,  I'll  try  anything  once — particularly  when  it 
isn't  very  expensive  and  I  can  afford  the  luxury. 
We're  going  to  buy  the  Costa  Rica,  take  her  into 
the  submarine  zone  and  lose  her,  but,  by  the  Holy  Pink- 
Toed  Prophet,  we'll  take  a  submarine  with  us !" 

"Not  if  the  German  sees  us  first." 

Gappy  leaned  forward  and  laid  his  index  finger  im 
pressively  on  Michael  J.  Murphy's,  knee.  "That's  the 
only  way  we  can  hope  to  win,"  he  declared.  "We  must 
make  certain  the  submarine  sees  us  first.  Mike,  a 
German  is  a  rabid  disciple  of  law  and  order;  anything 
out  of  the  usual  run  of  things  upsets  him  terribly; 
he  never  makes  allowance  for  the  unexpected  or  for 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  429 

the  other  fellow's  point  of  view.  To  be  more  exact, 
Mike,  I  figure  that  German  psychology  is  the  only  kind 
of  psychology  a  German  can  understand.  And  to  tell 
you  the  truth,  Mike,"  he  added  musingly,  "there  are 
blamed  few  people  who  can  understand  mine." 

Michael  J.  Murphy  nodded  a  rigorous  indorsement 
to  this  last  remark,  and  Cappy  went  on :  "Do  you  think 
any  proud  and  arrogant  skipper  of  a  German  sub 
marine  would  ever  suspect  an  American  citizen  of  such 
a  harebrained  scheme  as  the  sending  out  of  a  rusty, 
creaking  old  rattletrap  of  a  steamer  that  can't  get 
out  of  her  own  way,  for  the  avowed  purpose  of  destroy 
ing  him  and  his  sub?  No  sir!  His  microphones  will 
tell  him,  while  he  is  still  totally  submerged,  that  his 
approaching  prey  is  a  slow  poke  and  cannot  possibly 
outrun  him;  then  he'll  come  up,  take  a  look  and 
clinch  his  conclusions — after  which  he  will  attack." 

"True  for  you  sir.  He'll  launch  his  torpedo  and 
dive  before  I  can  get  a  shot  at  him  or  correct  my  range 
to  hit  him;  then  the  torpedo  will  hit  us  and  we'll  go 
up  like  a  shower  of  mush — probably  with  half  a  dozen 
men  killed  and  nothing  accomplished  in  the  way  of  a 
return  swat." 

"That  was  the  program  a  few  months  ago," 
Cappy  retorted  triumphantly.  "Have  you  noticed, 
however,  that  since  merchantmen  have  been  armed 
the  submarines  are  more  and  more  prone,  when  attack 
ing  in  daylight,  to  pursue  a  steamer  at  a  reasonable 
distance  and  rake  her  with  shell  fire?  If  a  vessel  is 
fired  on  and  her  skipper,  looking  back,  notes  the  posi 
tion  of  the  submarine  and  realizes  that  he  cannot  pos 
sibly  outrun  her  and  that  she  outranges  him,  what  does 
he  do,  Mike?" 


430  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"He  does  the  sensible  thing.  Heaves  to  to  avoid  loss 
of  life,  gets  his  men  into  the  boats  and  abandons  his 
ship  to  the  Hun." 

"Precisely !  And  if  the  Hun  thinks  he  is  not  likely  to 
be  disturbed  for  a  couple  of  hours,  what  does  he  do?" 

"Why,"  said  Murphy,  "he  comes  aboard,  removes  all 
the  stores  he  can — particularly  engine  oil — and  strips 
the  vessel  of  all  her  brass,  copper  and  bronze  fittings. 
These  metals  are  very  scarce  in  Germany  and  they 
need  all  they  can  get  in  the  manufacture  of  munitions." 

"Correct !  And  we  must  bear  in  mind,  Mike,  the 
fact  that  a  German  is  naturally  thrifty;  if  he  can 
sink  a  ship  with  shell  fire  or  bombs  set  in  her  bilges 
he  will  not  waste  on  her  a  torpedo  that  costs  from 
ten  to  twenty  thousand  dollars.  Now,  will  he?" 

"Well,  I  wouldn't,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"Then  my  plan  is  absurdly  simple.  We  merely  pro 
vide  a  gorgeous  opportunity  for  the  enemy;  we  incul 
cate  in  him  the  idea  that  he  is  about  to  pick  a  soft  one 
— then :  Alas,  poor  Yorick !" 

Michael  J.  Murphy  rose  and  put  on  his  hat.  "Where 
are  you  going,  Mike?"  Cappy  demanded. 

"I'm  going  up  to  the  navy  yard  at  Mare  Island,"  the 
port  captain  declared,  "to  see  if  I  cannot  pick  up  a 
couple  of  six-inch  rifles  of  the  model  they  used  when 
I  was  in  the  navy.  They're  obsolete  now,  but  I  under 
stand  them — and  while  I'm  getting  the  guns  I'll  pick  up 
four  or  five  old  navy  men.  Leave  it  to  me,  Mr.  Ricks." 

"We'll  give  'em  hell !"  shouted  Cappy. 

"We  will!"  quoth  Michael  J.  Murphy  with  convic 
tion. 


CHAPTER  LX 

Two  weeks  later  the  old  Costa  Rica,  looking  some 
what  youthful  in  a  new  coat  of  black  paint  and  with  a 
huge  American  flag  painted  on  each  topside,  slipped 
quietly  out  of  San  Francisco  in  ballast  and  for  the 
last  time  turned  her  nose  toward  Panama.  In  the 
brief  period  given  him  in  which  to  overhaul  her  interior, 
Terence  P.  Reardon  had  accomplished  wonders,  and 
an  hour  after  Mike  Murphy  had  taken  his  bearings 
from  Point  San  Pedro  and  laid  out  his  course  the  chief 
came  into  the  chart  room  to  announce  that  the  old  girl 
was  doing  eight  knots  and,  barring  unexpected  bad 
weather,  would  continue  to  do  it  without  falling  to 
pieces.  "If  I  could  have  spint  two  thousand  dollars 
more  on  her,"  Terence  declared,  "I  believe  I  could  get 
another  knot  out  av  her.  Time  was  whin  she  could  do 
sixteen." 

Gappy  Ricks,  enjoying  his  afternoon  cigar  in  the 
snug  chart  room,  snorted  vigorously.  "I  don't  very 
often  take  a  notion  to  throw  my  money  into  the 
sea,  Terence,"  he  reminded  his  port  engineer,  "but 
when  I  do  get  that  reckless  I  limit  myself  to  twenty 
thousand  dollars,  and  that,  in  round  figures,  is  what 
this  old  ruin  will  stand  me  about  the  time  the  torpedo 
blows  you  up  on  top  of  the  fiddle.  However,  that  is 
a  trifling  investment  if  we  succeed  in  destroying  a  late- 
type  German  submarine  with  a  couple  of  hundred  thou 
sand  dollars'  worth  of  torpedoes  aboard.  As  a  sport- 

431 


432  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

ing  proposition  it's  somewhat  more  expensive  than  golf, 
but  the  excitement  makes  up  for  the  added  cost." 

"The  old  box  is  alive  with  rats  and  bedbugs,"  Mur 
phy  complained. 

"If  they  annoy  you,  Mike,  my  boy,  comfort  your 
self  with  the  thought  that  they're  all  going  to  be 
drowned,"  Gappy  replied  gayly. 

Slowly  the  old  packet  wallowed  down  the  coast,  the 
while  her  crew,  under  Mike  Murphy's  supervision,  built 
gun  platforms  fore  and  aft.  Following  their  com 
pletion,  the  two  six-inch  guns  Gappy  had  succeeded 
in  getting  from  the  navy  were  lifted  out  of  the  hold 
with  the  aid  of  the  cargo  winch  and  placed  in  position, 
one  forward  and  the  other  aft.  Thereupon  the  mate 
took  charge  of  the  Costa  Rica,  while  Mike  Murphy 
drilled  his  crew  in  range  finding  and  celerity  in  load 
ing  the  piece.  Pointing  the  gun  was  entirely  up  to 
Murphy  and,  needless  to  state,  the  task  was  in  capa 
ble  hands,  as  was  frequently  demonstrated  during  tar 
get  practice  as  they  loafed  down  the  coast. 

Upon  arrival  at  Panama  the  Costa  Rica's  bunkers 
were  replenished  and  an  extra  supply  of  sacked  coal  was 
piled  on  deck,  for  with  her  patched-up  boilers  the  old 
steamer  was  a  hog  on  fuel.  Then  the  mechanics  and 
carpenters  and  all  men  not  vitally  needed  aboard  for 
the  remainder  of  the  voyage  were  put  ashore  and  fur 
nished  with  transportation  back  to  San  Francisco  by 
the  regular  Pacific  Mail  liner.  Next,  the  name  on  the 
bows  of  the  Costa  Rica  was  painted  out,  the  name 
boards  at  each  end  of  her  bridge  removed  and  the 
raised-letter  record  of  her  identity  and  home  port 
chipped  off  her  stern;  following  which  Gappy  Ricks, 
Terence  P.  Reardon  and  Michael  J.  Murphy  commended 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  433 

their  souls  to  their  Creator,  and  the  Costa  Rica 
slipped  leisurely  through  the  ditch  and  out  into  the 
Caribbean  Sea. 

Fourteen  days  later  Mike  Murphy  dropped  round 
to  Cappy  Ricks*  cabin.  "We're  in  the  danger  zone, 
sir,"  he  announced.  "And  from  now  on  we're  liable 
to  meet  one  of  the  larger  type  of  U-boats  that  operate 
a  couple  of  thousand  miles  from  the  base  at  Zeebrugge." 

"Very  well,"  Cappy  replied  calmly.  "Whether  tor 
pedoed  or  shelled,  your  instructions  are  the  same. 
Forbid  the  wireless  operator  to  send  out  a  call  for 
help,  heave  to  immediately  and  get  the  men  into  the 
boats  and  away  from  the  ship.  Terry  Reardon  will 
remain  on  duty  in  the  engine  room,  provided  it  isn't 
wrecked  by  a  torpedo  and  the  engine  room  crew  killed; 
you  and  your  gun  crew  will  remain  aboard  and  hide  in 
the  forecastle  if  it's  action  front,  and  in  the  auxiliary 
steering-gear  house  if  it's  action  rear.  I  will  relieve 
the  quartermaster,  take  charge  of  the  wheel  and  direct 
the  action.  If  I  see  that  there  isn't  going  to  be  any 
action  we'll  put  on  life  preservers,  jump  overboard  and 
be  picked  up  by  our  men  in  the  boats.  However,  some 
thing  tells  me,  Mike,  that  we're  going  to  have  a  crack 
at " 

At  that  very  instant  something  rapped  the  Costa 
Rica  terrifically  on  the  starboard  side  amidships  and 
tore  through  her  with  a  grinding,  wrenching  noise, 
followed  by  an  explosion. 

"There's  the  crack  you  were  speaking  of,  sir,"  Mur 
phy  yelled  and  started  for  the  door.  Cappy  Ricks 
grasped  him  frantically  by  the  arm.  "Was  that  a 
shell  or  a  torpedo?"  he  cried.  His  voice,  thin  and 
shrill  with  age,  quavered  now  with  excitement. 


434  GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"It  was  a  shell,"  Murphy  answered.  "Went  through 
the  second  cabin." 

"Then  that  German  belongs  to  Alden  P.  Ricks," 
Cappy  declared,  and  scurried  for  the  pilot  house. 
"Out  and  into  life-boats !"  he  ordered  the  quarter 
master,  and  shoved  him  away  from  the  wheel.  "Set  her 
over  to  slow  speed  ahead,"  he  called  to  the  mate,  who 
was  standing  stupidly,  gazing  at  the  white  puffs  of 
smoke  that  marked  the  position  of  the  submarine  two 
miles  off  the  starboard  bow.  The  mate  came  to  life, 
jammed  over  the  handle  of  the  marine  telegraph  and, 
obeying  an  order  bellowed  to  him  by  Mike  Murphy  from 
the  main  deck,  abandoned  the  bridge  for  the  boat  deck, 
there  to  superintend  the  task  of  getting  the  men  away 
from  the  ship. 

His  first  thrill  of  excitement  having  subsided,  Cappy 
carefully  drew  the  little  half  curtains  on  the  pilot-house 
window,  leaving  a  small  slit  through  which  he  could 
observe  the  submarine  without  being  observed  himself, 
for  it  was  no  part  of  his  plan  to  disclose  to  the  enemy 
the  fact  that  the  ship  was  not  entirely  deserted — and 
that  the  submarine  commander  should  jump  to  the 
conclusion  that  she  was  deserted  by  all  hands  was 
precisely  the  condition  that  Cappy  desired  to  bring 
about. 

Down  in  the  engine  room  the  indomitable  Terence 
Reardon,  with  one  hand  on  the  throttle  and  one  eye 
on  the  steam  gauge,  put  the  Costa  Rica  under  a  dead- 
slow  bell;  she  seemed  scarcely  to  move,  yet  she  had 
sufficient  steerage  way  to  enable  Cappy  to  keep  her 
pointed  in  the  general  direction  of  the  submarine,  the 
commander  of  which,  seeing  the  crew  of  the  Costa 
Rica  scurrying  for  the  boats,  contented  himself  with 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  435 

sending  jover  half  a  dozen  shells  for  the  purpose  of 
hurrying  them  along;  then  he  ceased  firing,  and  when 
(the  boats  pulled  out  from  the  ship  in  tow  of  a  motor 
lifeboat  and  his  powerful  glasses  showed  neither  guns 
;nor  sign  of  life  upon  the  Costa  Rica's  decks,  he  did 
exactly  what  Gappy  Ricks  figured  he  would  do. 

He  circled  warily  round  his  prize,  but  the  absence 
of  frantic  wireless  calls  for  help  lulled  his  suspicions, 
<and  presently  he  bore  down  upon  her,  hove  to  two 
cable  lengths  abreast  the  wallowing  hulk  and  watched 
her  fully  five  minutes  for  a  possible  trap,  for  the 
absence  of  any  name  puzzled  him.  His  suspicions  sub 
sided  at  length,  however,  the  hatch  in  her  turtle  deck 
slid  back  and  men  appeared,  dragging  up  a  small 
collapsible  boat. 

Slowly,  slowly — so  gradually  that  it  seemed  the  old 
Vessel  was  merely  drifting,  Gappy  brought  the  Costa 
Rica  round  until  her  bow  pointed  toward  the  submarine. 
Mike  Murphy,  standing  just  inside  the  forecastle  door, 
kept  his  glance  on  the  slit  in  the  curtains  on  the  pilot 
house  window — and  presently  Gappy  motioned  violent 
ly  to  him. 

"To  the  gun!"  ordered  the  captain.  Followed  by 
his  gun  crew  he  dashed  out  of  the  forecastle  and  up  the 
companion  ladder  to  the  forecastle  head.  A  jerk  at 
a  lever  connecting  a  cunningly  constructed  set  of  con 
trols,  and  the  false  topsides  on  the  forecastle  head 
flopped  to  the  d^ck,  revealing  Mike  Murphy's  six-inch 
gun.  Gappy  saw  him  deflect  the  gun  while  another 
man  traversed  it ;  for  five  seconds  his  eyes  pressed 
the  sight,  and  when  the  gun  remained  motionless 
Cappy  knew  that  the  hull  of  the  submarine  was  loom- 


436  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

ing  fairly  on  the  intersection  of  the  cross  wires  in  the 
sight.     The  range  was  point-blank! 

Quick  as  were  Murphy  and  his  crew,  however,  the 
gun  crew  of  the  submarine  was  quicker.  Before  the 
Costa  Rica's  gun  was  properly  laid,  a  shell  from  the 
submarine  flew  a  foot  over  the  heads  of  the  Murphy- 
ites  and  burst  fifty  yards  beyond  the  ship.  "Ah, 
missed!"  breathed  Michael  J.  and  raised  his  hand. 
The  gunner  released  the  firing  pin  and  the  six-inch 
projectile  with  which  the  gun  had  been  loaded  for  two 
days  crashed  into  the  submarine  at  her  water  line. 

A  terrific  explosion  followed  the  shot.  Gappy  Ricks, 
gazing  popeyed  with  horror,  saw  the  submarine  dis 
integrate  and  disappear  in  a  huge  water-spout;  when 
the  water  settled  only  a  vast  and  widening  smear  of 
heavy  fuel  oil  showed  where  she  had  been. 

From  the  forecastle  head  Michael  Murphy  yelled 
to  Cappy  Ricks.  "Well,  are  you  satisfied,  sir?"  On 
his  part,  Cappy,  jubilant,  even  in  the  instant  when  he 
knew  thirty  new  faces  were  already  whining  round  the 
devil,  dashed  out  on  the  bridge,  seized  the  whistle  cord 
and  swung  on  it.  A  sad,  nautical  sob  from  the  Costa 
Rica's  siren  answered  him,  and  ten  seconds  later  Ter 
ence  Reardon  whistled  up  the  bridge.  Cappy  let  go 
the  whistle  cord  and  took  up  the  speaking  tube* 
"Hello,"  he  piped. 

"What  the  divil  do  ye  mean  be  blowin*  that  whistle?" 
roared  Terence,  thinking  he  was  addressing  the  mate. 
"Wit'  me  alone  in  the  engine  room  how  d'ye  expect 
me  to  keep  shteam  up  on  this  ould  hooker  wit'  you 
blowin'  it  off  in  the  whistle !  Take  shame  to  yourself !" 

"Mike  sunk  the  submarine!  Mike  sunk  the  sub 
marine!"  Cappy  shrilled  over  and  over  again.  "Come 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  437 

up,  Terence,  and  see  the  oil.  See  the  oil,  Terence,  see 
; the  oil!  Mike  sunk  the  submarine,  Mike  sunk  it.  Bully 
if  or  Mike!  Oh,  bully!  Bully!  Bully!  Mike  sunk  it, 
,but  I  schemed  it.  Come  up,  Terence,  I'm  going  to 
faint." 

And  then,  with  shrill  yips  of  delirious  delight  he  slid 
.down  the  companion  to  the  main  deck,  to  be  gathered 
.-in  Michael  J.  Murphy's  arms  and  hugged  and  passed 
tio  the  gun  crew,  who  hoisted  him  to  their  shoulders  and 
paraded  joyously  and  blasphemously  round  the  deck. 

"I  told  you  he  wouldn't  use  a  torpedo  if  he  could 
do  the  trick  with  shells,"  Cappy  shouted.  "I  told 
you  he'd  board  us  if  we  didn't  wireless  for  help.  Ha, 
ha,  ha !  Te-hee !"  And  he  burst  into  shrill  cachinna- 
tions.  "I  out-thought  the  scoundrel — goinr  to  get  a 
patent  on  my  idea — turn  it  over  to  the  Government — 
oh,  Mike !  Oh,  Terence !  Get  the  steward  back  aboard. 
We  must  have  some  liquor.  They  used  to  serve  grog 
in  the  old  navy  after  a  victory,  didn't  they  ?  Yi-yi-yi !" 

Terence  P.  Reardon  came  up  and  proffered  his 
•  greasy  paw,  the  while  his  quizzical  glance  swept  the 
oily  sea.  "Well,  sor,"  he  remarked  philosophicairy, 
"what  wit'  bein'  a  Christian  I'm  a  little  bit  sorry  the 
Dutchman  lost,  but  back  av  that  again  I'm  a  little  bit 
glad  we  won.  Michael,  do  you  get  those  blackguards 
o'  mine  down  below  as  quick  as  ye  can,  or  we'll  be  all 
day  gettin'  shteam  up  agin  in  this  ould  brute  av  a 
ship." 


CHAPTER  LXI 

Two  days  passed  uneventfully;  then  shortly  before 
sunset  on  the  third  day  the  look-out  reported  a  peri 
scope  about  a  thousand  yards  distant  and  three  points 
off  the  port  bow.  Cappy  Ricks'  old  knees  promptly 
commenced  to  knock  together  with  excitement. 

"Here's  where  Terence  gets  that  torpedo  if  he  doesn't 
come  up  out  of  the  engine  room,"  Mike  Murphy  re 
marked  laconically,  and  promptly  whistled  Terence  on 
the  engine  room  speaking  tube.  "Come  up  or  be  blown 
up,"  he  yelled. 

"Divil  a  fear !    We're  comin',"  Terence  replied. 

The  chief  and  his  crew  had  just  reached  the  deck 
when  the  black  shining  turtleback  of  the  submarine 
broke  water. 

"They  have  to  come  to  the  surface  to  discharge  a 
torpedo,"  Murphy  explained  to  Cappy  Ricks. 

"Great  Godfrey !  Here  it  comes !"  shrilled  Cappy, 
and  watched,  fascinated,  the  wake  of  the  torpedo  as 
it  raced  toward  them.  Just  as  Terence  Reardon  and 
his  engine  crew  came  panting  up  on  the  bridge,  the 
old  Costa  Rica  walked  into  it.  "Me  ingine  room!  I 
knew  it !"  cried  Terence.  Then  the  explosion  came. 

From  where  he  lay  on  his  back,  half  stunned,  Cappy 
Ricks  saw  water  and  wreckage  fly  high  in  the  air.    The.- 
Costa  Rica  shivered.     So  did  Cappy.     Then  the  debris  | 
descended,  and  Cappy,  choked  with  salt  water,  dimly:) 
realized  that  Terence  Reardon  had  him  in  his   arms| 

438 


CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  439 

jkand  was  carrying  him  down  to  the  boat  deck,  where 
((the  motor  lifeboat  swung  wide  in  the  davits. 

"Here,  take  the  boss  from  me,"  Terence  commanded, 
jiand  passed  Cappy  to  a  negro  fireman,  who  carried  the 
old  man  forward  and  laid  him  on  a  pile  of  blankets, 
•previously  placed  there  for  just  such  an  emergency. 

Then  the  lifeboat  commenced  to  drop  away  from 
the  towering  black  topside  and  Cappy  was  aware  of 
Michael  J.  Murphy's  face — white,  anxious,  terrified — 
gazing  down  at  him  from  the  ship's  rail. 

"I'm  just  suffering  from  the  shock,"  Cappy  called. 
"Mike,  you  'tend  to  business.     Remember  what  I  told 
i  you  and  tell  the  crew  to  keep  their  mouths  shut.     He'll 
do  the  natural  thing  and  walk  into  your  hand." 

Murphy,  reassured,  waved  his  hand,  and  with  his 
gun  crew  fled  aft  to  the  little  house  that  protected  the 
auxiliary  steering  gear  from  the  weather,  where  they 
concealed  themselves.  In  the  meantime  the  other  life 
boats  had  been  lowered  away;  the  painter  from  the 
I  third  boat  was  passed  to  the  second,  which  in  turn 
passed  its  painter  to  the  motor  boat,  and  the  ship's 
company  hauled  clear  of  the  shattered,  sinking  ship. 
The  Costa  Rica  was  going  down  by  the  head,  and 
Cappy,  curious  as  any  human  being,  sat  up  to  watch 
his  decoy  disappear. 

The  submarine  steamed  up  to  them.  "What  vessel 
is  that?"  her  commander  shouted  from  the  conning 
tower  in  excellent  English. 

"The  American  steamer  Soak-it -to-9  em,  of  Rotten 
Row,"  Cappy  Ricks  replied,  "carrying  a  cargo  of  post 
holes.  She  has  three  decks  and  no  bottom." 

"How  do  you  spell  the  name?"  the  German  bawled. 


440  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

"Can't  hear  you,"  Cappy  fibbed.  Then,  sotto  voce, 
to  Mr.  Reardon:  "Kick  her  ahead,  Terry." 

"How  do  you  spell  the  name?"  the  submarine  captain 
repeated. 

Cappy  jibbered  something  unintelligible,  and  Mr. 
Reardon  added  to  the  puzzle  by  bellowing  the  infor 
mation  that  the  p  was  silent,  as  in  pneumonia.  All 
this  time  the  motor  boat  was  putting  distance  between 
itself  and  the  submarine,  and  the  disgusted  German,  as 
a  last  resort,  steamed  away  and  circled  round  the 
rapidly  lifting  stern  of  the  doomed  Costa  Rica,  con 
fident  that  there  he  would  find  the  record  of  her  iden 
tity  and  home  port — information  which,  in  his  me 
thodical  German  way,  he  desired  to  include  in  his 
official  report  to  the  Admiralty.  And  while  he  ratched 
slowly  past,  striving  to  find  with  his  binoculars  that 
which  was  not,  Michael  J.  Murphy  and  his  bully  boys 
came  aft  with  a  rush,  tore  aside  the  tarpaulin  that 
screened  the  stern  gun  and  expeditiously  opened  fire. 
To  Cappy  Ricks'  horror  Murphy's  first  shot  was  a 
clean  miss,  and  instantly  the  big  sub  started  to  sub 
merge  with  a  hoarse  sucking  sound  that  brought  de 
spair  to  Cappy  Ricks'  heart.  She  was  halfway  under 
before  Murphy's  gun  was  reloaded,  but  quite  calmly 
the  gun  was  traversed  and  deflected  until  the  black 
stern  flashed  across  the  intersection  of  the  wires  in 
the  sight;  then  Murphy's  hand  dropped  and  the  gun 
roared. 

"That'll  do  nicely,  lads,"  he  told  his  crew.  "Tore 
the  stern  off  her  that  time;  and  from  this  dive  she'll 
not  come  up.  Cappy  Ricks  was  right.  He  banked 
on  human  nature,  and  if  curiosity  isn't  a  human  trait 
then  I'm  a  Chinaman.  Overboard  with  you,  and  away 


GAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES  441 


Before  the  old  wirl  goes  under  or  we'll  be  sucked  down 
n  the  vortex." 

And  overboard  they  went,  to  be  picked  up  five  min- 
ites  later  by  Terence  and  Cappy  in  the  motor  lifeboat. 
'You  were  right,  Mr.  Ricks,"  cried  Murphy  as  he 
scrambled  into  the  boat.  "Curiosity  killed  the  cat  !" 

"Yes,  and  it's  blamed  near  killed  me,"  Cappy  de 
clared  feebly.  "Some  of  that  debris  came  down  and 
lit  me  a  slap  on  the  dome  -  Jerusalem!  There  goes 
ny  decoy  —  peace  to  her  bones  !" 

The  Costa  Rica  dove  to  the  Port  of  Missing  Ships. 
Michael  J.  Murphy,  however,  did  not  turn  to  see  her 
disappear  ;  he  was  gazing,  instead,  at  a  thin  red  trickle 
that  came  from  under  Cappy's  cap  band  and  was 
irunning  down  his  wizened  neck.  "Mr.  Ricks,"  he  said 
anxiously,  "you're  wounded." 

Cappy  rubbed  the  sore  spot,  and  when  he  withdrew 
tibis  fingers  they  were  bloody. 

"By  the  Holy  Pink-Toed  Prophet  !"  he  gasped  won- 
Heringly.  "You're  right,  Mike.  I've  been  wounded  in 
faction  with  the  enemies  of  my  country!  So  help  me, 
Mike.  I've  actually  lived  to  shed  my  blood  for  the 
|Stars  and  Stripes,  like  any  other  Ricks." 

He  gazed  wonderingly  at  Mike  Murphy.  "Now  I 
can  die  happy,"  he  murmured.  "I've  done  my  bit." 

"Yes,  begorra,"  rumbled  Terence  P.  Reardon,  "an'  if 
[I  have  my  way  about  it  ye're  honorably  discharged 
[from  the  service  this  minute,  Misther  Ricks.  I'll 
gallivant  no  more  wit'  you  in  ye're  ould  breadbaskets 
lav  shteamers.  'Tis  highly  dangerous  an'  no  business 
»f  or  a  man  of  family." 

Mike  Murphy  grinned  at  his  colleague.  "For  all 
|  that,  Terence,"  he  declared,  "you  must  admit  that  Mr. 


442  CAPPY  RICKS  RETIRES 

Ricks*  scheme  for  destroying  submarines  is  the  only 
practical  one  yet  devised." 

"Thrue  for  ye,  Michael.  But  shtill,  like  all  fine 
invintions,  the  idjea  has  its  dhrawbacks.  Now  if  we 
could  only  be  sure  av  a  continyous  supply  av  ould 
ships  for  use  as  decoys " 

"I  see  a  smudge  of  smoke,"  cried  Gappy  Ricks. 

Mike  Murphy  followed  the  old  man's  pointing  finger. 
"There's  only  one  kind  of  boat  makes  a  smudge  like 
that,"  he  declared;  "and  it's  a  destroyer.  Safe  and 
well  out  of  a  glorious  adventure.  Faith,  we're  the 
lucky  devils ;  and  by  this  and  by  that,  I'll  enlist  aboard 
that  destroyer,  now  that  I'm  here  on  the  job." 

"Do — an'  good  luck  to  you!"  murmured  Terence. 

"Amen,"  said  Cappy  Ricks,  and  fingered  his  trifling 
but  honorable  wound.  "Gosh!"  he  murmured.  "If 
Skinner  could  only  know  a  thrill  like  this !" 


THE  END. 


THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
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OVERDUE. 


OCT   24  193! 


OCi  16 


-est- 


PEC 


FEB  21  1941  M 


OCT  VI 


« 


M 


"gtlcf 


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